


Lunacy

by la_petite_conteuse



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Magic, F/F, F/M, M/M, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23050816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_petite_conteuse/pseuds/la_petite_conteuse
Summary: Daenerys finds herself expelled, alone, and caught in the middle of the latest scandal to rock the wizarding world.With no where else to go, she accepts an offer from a long-lost relative to finish her education at a revered institution in the north of Scotland.But Dany’s plan to keep her head down and stay out of trouble is quickly complicated by a fellow student, who may be the only one at the center of more rumors than her.Short-ish Chapters, frequent updates!**rating will be updated for later chapters
Relationships: Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 146
Kudos: 200





	1. All Aboard

_Ugh._

She bristled as yet another person, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere _very_ important, knocked her back a step as they pushed past her, not even breaking their stride as they rushed toward wherever they were going. She sighed in frustration and gazed over the bustling crowds of travelers incredulously.

Muggle travel.

This was a far cry from the enchanted carriages pulled by winged horses that she’d become accustomed to over the years.

She shook the thought from her head.

_If I look back I am lost.  
  
_

She took a deep breath, set her jaw, and continued pushing the cart full of her belongings through the busy station. Drogon paced in his cage, hissing at anyone who passed too close and gnawing on the side bars anxiously. The black cat had always hated being in enclosed spaces. 

She scanned the overhead signs leading her to her destination.

_Platform 6_

_Platform 7_

_Platform 8_

_Platform 9…_

She halted the cart before she got to the sign that read _Platform 10_. She furrowed her brow and reached in her pocket to pull out the letter she had received from her great-uncle just two weeks prior. She scanned it briefly, skipping to the directions at the end…

_“P.s._

_Kings Cross Station_

_Platform 9 ¾_

_September 1st, 10 am sharp.”_

She looked back up at the platform markers. 

_9_.

 _10_.

That was it.

She studied the note again more carefully, as if reading it for the hundredth time would somehow make it reveal more information. The sparse instructions seemed to stare back at her incredulously, as if mocking the ridiculous scenario she was in.

She huffed humorlessly and pushed the cart over by the wall to get out of the way of the foot traffic.

She chided herself internally.

 _Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

She should’ve known better. A letter from a great-uncle whom she had never met? Offering her sanctuary in her hour of need? How daft could she be? The ruse was even complete with nonsensical directions to a nonexistent location.

She leaned back against the cool brick wall, letting her head fall back with a soft thud as she squeezed her eyes closed. She bit her lower lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, as she always did when she was trying not to cry. She’d been doing it often these past few months. After everything that happened at Beauxbatons, she was all too eager to believe that someone was giving her a second chance. 

_You’d think I’d know better by now._ She thought to herself as she willed the lump in her throat away.

A sudden tap on her shoulder had her just about jumping out of her skin. 

She opened her eyes to a pretty young woman about her same age, with a halo of curly brown hair, looking rather shy and embarrassed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

She let out a breath and gave an understanding smile. “That’s alright. I should pay better attention.”

The girl smiled back at her “Would you mind terribly moving your cart? It's blocking the entrance.”

“Of course” she responded compulsively, pushing her cart further along the wall. Then it struck her. She turned back around to ask her, “The entr-“

But the girl was now swiftly pushing her cart directly toward the wall. Daenerys opened her mouth to shout and try and stop her before she collided with it, but before she’d hardly made a noise, the cart and the girl seemed to melt into the wall and disappear just as they should have made impact. She blinked a few times in shock. She whipped around to look at all the people passing by who must’ve seen. 

No one had even paused. It was as if the girl had never been there at all. The travelers simply continued on their way to wherever it was they were going, completely absorbed in their own worlds.

She shook her head and chuckled under her breath. Nothing amazed her more than how determined muggles seemed to be to ignore the most obvious magical occurrences. 

She looked back at the segment of wall that the girl had disappeared through and walked over to it. She reached out to feel the bricks, half expecting her hand to pass through them. They were solid under her touch. 

She shook her head. It was either magic or she was losing her mind. The odds were 50/50 these days.

She walked back to her cart and sighed, coming to a decision. 

_Here goes nothing._

She drew her cart back just as the girl had done, took a deep breath, and pushed forward swiftly toward the wall. She closed her eyes and braced for impact, but it never came. She merely felt a strong gust of wind, which prompted her to slow her cart. She halted and opened her eyes, finding herself in a different place entirely. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and it came out as a puff of steam in the crisp morning air. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the scene in front of her.

Sunlight streamed down in solid rays through the ceiling windows of the steel-arched, tunnel-like depot, illuminating the clouds of steam that floated through the air and around the passengers on the platform she now found herself standing on. Groups of students and families with young children bustled around her heading toward their shared destination.

A massive steam locomotive with lacquered panels of deep crimson and accents of gold and black was stationed just a few yards down the track. It was beautiful in a Dickensian sort of way. The whole place felt out of it’s time, as so many places in the wizarding world did, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit more at ease in the magical atmosphere. 

In the moment she almost allowed herself to forget her troubles,

but her luck wouldn’t allow that for long. 

A large group of students walked by, and one of them spotted her. The girl immediately grabbed her friend by the arm and leaned in to whisper urgently. The whispers spread through the group, each of them turning to throw a disgusted, fearful, or leering glance over their shoulder. She knew what they were saying.

_“...Murderer...”_

_“...Incest...”_

_“...Mad King’s Daughter...”_

The reality of her current situation came flooding back in. 

There would be no hiding from it. 

Ever since Baelish wrote that article it was as if the whole wizarding world knew who she was. _‘The Mad King’s daughter suspect in brother’s murder”_ the daily prophet headline had read. Littlefinger must be so proud that his little moniker had stuck. The reporter so _loved_ to come up with them.

She’d never been a stranger to ogling crowds, her unmistakable Veela-blooded features often drew attention, but that was different. That was curiosity, even occasionally wariness. 

Now she was openly hated.

She ignored the stares and started down the platform toward the train, replaying Lady Olenna’s advice in her head. 

_You are a dragon. Be a dragon_. 

She would not let these people break her. Many, much more powerful and cruel, had tried.

The crowds seemed to part like the Red Sea as soon as they saw her. She tried not to look at their faces, keeping her gaze lowered, but a little girl who was too young to be a student, walked right into her line of sight. To dany’s surprise, the girl smiled up at her. She couldn’t help but smile back, thankful for the connection. But just as swiftly as her lips had quirked upward, the girl's mother looked over horrified, gasped, scooped her up, and hurried away.

Dany felt the all too familiar sting of rejection creeping up her throat, but she wouldn’t allow it to overtake her.

_Be a dragon_.

She simply lifted her chin up and walked briskly past the leering patrons toward one of the trains many entrances.

The attendant by the opening was already loading another student’s bags, so she queued up and waited, busying herself with checking on Drogon, who only briefly ceased hissing at every passerby he saw to purr at her attentions. The attendant returned from loading the previous student’s last bag on board, cheerily hopped down from the car and greeted her.

“Hello miss! May I..” A flash of recognition passed over his face, causing him to stutter and his smile to waver ever so slightly. “may I assist you?” 

She internally commended the man for his commitment to professionalism, and tried to smile back, but found it felt like more of a grimace.

“Yes, thank you.” She grabbed Drogon’s cage to spare the poor man from his wrath, allowing him to manage the rest. 

The two cases in hand, he nodded toward the entrance. “This way, miss.” He told her, stepping aboard the train car.

She stepped on behind him and was immediately greeted with the sounds of laughter and animated conversation. As she turned the corner and followed him down the corridor, she couldn’t help but peer into the compartments from which the noise radiated. 

One was filled with giggling girls whispering secrets, another with rowdy boys throwing joke hexes at each other. One contained what seemed to be siblings, arguing over who’s turn it was to have the window seat. She felt the sting creeping up again and looked away, resolving to keep her eyes forward. 

Finally the attendant halted and stepped aside so she could enter an empty compartment on the right. “Here we are,”

She nodded to the man in thanks and stepped inside. She was surprised how cavernous the compartment felt. The ones they had passed had all seemed so small when filled with lively students.

The attendant swiftly brought in her bags and lifted them onto the overhead shelves. He reached toward Drogon’s cage, but a loud hiss had him quickly rethinking that move. Normally she would’ve chuckled at such an exchange, but today she couldn’t find the humour.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss?” he asked politely, but clearly hoping to be dismissed.

“No, that will be all. Thank you” 

She handed him a generous tip, but didn’t wait to hear his thanks, quickly sliding the compartment door shut behind him. She sunk into the seat next to the cage and watched through the window until the attendant was out of sight.

No sooner had he disappeared, did her walls finally give way. 

The tears that had been threatening her all morning finally began to fall. She sobbed briefly into her hand, allowing herself a moment of weakness; allowing the pain, guilt, shame, and self-pity to overwhelm her.

But Dany had never been good at vulnerability, even with herself, and this time was no different. Not even a minute later she was forcing herself to breathe deeply and get it together. 

_Be a dragon.  
_

She wiped her tears on the back of her hand and decided she’d make a quick trip to the washroom to get herself back in order before more students boarded. God forbid anyone join her compartment, she could not give them even more to gossip about.

She slid the door open and peaked down the corridor. With no one in sight but a conductor headed in the opposite direction, she decided the coast was clear enough and stepped out into the hallway, turning back to gently close it. 

She’d hardly even turned to take a step down the hall when she collided with a wall of wool sweater and muscle. The collision knocked her off balance, but strong hands shot out to steady her.

She quickly regained her bearings, but was immediately taken aback by the sight in front of her.

“Shite, I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” His northern lilt was as disarming as his appearance.

The boy, well, man really, in front of her was handsome, to state the obvious. 

His raven curls falling to just below his jawline, standing out against his pale skin which strangely suited him. He was well built too. Not too tall, but a full head above her, and his muscular frame was evident under the thin sweater. He had a ghost of a beard growing in, as if he’d forgotten to shave for too long, and it gave him a slightly rugged, devil-may-care appearance. 

It was his eyes that really struck her. Once she’d met them with her own, she couldn’t look away. They were a gorgeous dark chocolate brown, yet it wasn't their color that drew her in. It was something behind them that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Something in his gaze that raised a hundred questions within her and kept her frozen in place

She suddenly realized how long she’d been staring, remembered the tear stains on her face, and snapped out of her thoughts.

She stepped out of his grasp and looked away, embarrased. 

“My fault,” she muttered politely and slipped past him down the hallway, hurrying to the door marked with the word lavatory. 

She was glad to find it unoccupied and quickly closed herself inside, squeezing her eyes shut and willing herself to forget the awkward interaction that just transpired.

_Be a dragon._

She willed the thoughts away and opened her eyes, turning to look into the small mirror on the wall.

For a moment, she honestly didn’t recognize the person who stared back at her. The dark circles seemed permanently etched into her face now, the familiar tear stains only emphasizing them. Her pale skin no longer suited her, instead making her appear sickly and morose, her pale hair adding to the effect.

The worst, was the profound emptiness of the gaze that stared back at her. She had to look away.

She turned on the faucet at the small sink and splashed cold water on her face, her mind wandering to the strange encounter she’d just had.

Not so long ago, and yet in another lifetime, it would’ve gone so differently. At Beauxbatons flirting had been a sport and she was a star player. She would’ve exploited such a meet-cute with a handsome stranger, would’ve used the moment like a snare and made him her prey, batted her eyelashes and had him wrapped him around her finger, his head spinning by the time she walked away. 

She grabbed a soft towel from a nearby hook and patted her face dry, opening her eyes again and sighing at her still unfamiliar reflection. 

Two things she knew for sure:

1\. She was a long way from Beauxbatons

and

2\. she was even further from the person she had been back then.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you’d enjoyed this intro to what I hope will be a long and riveting story!  
> Kudos, comments, and bookmarks are always appreciated!   
> I can’t wait to show you all where this story is headed. Until next time!


	2. The Family Circus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! Chapter 2!  
> Thank you all for the kind comments, I can’t wait to show you where this story is headed!

The morning of September 1st always meant chaos at Winterfell, and this year was no different. 

It was arguably the most chaotic it had ever been, because with Rickon starting his first year at Hogwarts, it was the first time all six stark children would be leaving for the school year. That meant six people currently running around the house, grabbing last minute items and arguing about how long each other spent in the loo. It also meant Lady Starks stress level was even higher than usual, and that was saying something.

For all of those reasons, especially the last one, Jon decided to forgo the breakfast table, and instead to summon some tea into his favorite mug, and stay far away in his tower until the last possible minute.

He had moved into the old bell tower a few summers back, when tensions were particularly high with Lady Stark. He was sure she’d felt a righteous thrill, banishing him to live in the decrepit structure in the furthest wing of the house, but the truth was, it was the greatest gift she’d ever given him. There he could live on his terms, and without constant fear of her judgemental stare, constantly suspecting him of wrongdoing. He could also come and go freely without running into the many other occupants of the house, which had ended up coming in very handy on a regular basis.

He’d thought many times of thanking Cat for the generous gift, just to see the look of horror on her face, but he knew she wouldn’t hesitate to rip it away from him the moment she knew it brought him any semblance of joy, so instead he kept his mouth shut, avoided run-ins with her whenever possible, and counted the days to September 1st.

This was his favorite day of the year, far surpassing his birthday and Christmas in his eyes, even with all the chaos and stress that it came with. It was the day when he could finally escape this isolating, if cozy, prison and return to the one place where he didn’t feel completely alone.

So there he sat in the old leather chair that he’d spotted in a skip while walking home a few months prior, skimming a book that Professor Mormont had recommended, drinking his tea and waiting.

His bag had long been packed and was now sitting on his bed. He’d been dressed and ready for hours, unable to go back to sleep once he’d woken and remembered what day it was.

Ghost tittered anxiously in his cage, as if he also knew what the date was. Jon believed he did. The snowy owl had always been smarter than most.

The clock on his desk finally struck nine. He stood, downed the remainder of his tea, and grabbed his wand off the desk. He walked over to the cage containing Ghost, lifting the small latch and swinging open the wire door. He offered his avian companion his hand, and the bird gently wrapped each talon around his first finger. Jon carefully lifted him out of the enclosure and walked to the closest window, opening it outwards and reaching his arm with the owl out into the morning air.

“I’ll see you soon, boy. No detours ok?” Jon teased.

The owl blinked his large red eyes as if to agree, and with three swift beats of his wings took off into the sky. Jon watched him fly until he disappeared over the trees of the wolf’s wood, and he closed the window. He grabbed his favorite black coat off the bed, swung it on, picked up the large suitcase, and headed toward the stairs. 

The steps descended from a trap door in the far side of the room, winding down around the inside of the tower to the second floor. 

He wasn't even halfway down when the sounds of the house started to reach his ears:

“Arya where is my school jumper?!” Sansa’s shrill voice carried through the house.

“How would I know?!” Arya bit back at her.

“Because you’re always stealing it!” Her sister accused.

Jon shook his head and continued to descend the stairs, grateful for his decision to avoid the bulk of the morning drama.

“Mum I can’t find Shaggy anywhere!” Rickon’s voice called out.

“Why is he out of his cage??” Catelyn immediately demanded.

“He kept meowing,” the youngest Stark reasoned.

“He’s a cat Rickon they tend to do that,” was Robb’s amused two cents on the matter.

Jon chuckled to himself as he finally reached the bottom of the stairs and entered the hallway.

“Everyone better be downstairs in the next 5 minutes. We’re leaving at 9:15 sharp whether or not you’re ready!” Lady Stark announced from what sounded like the kitchen.

“Listen to your mother,” Ned Stark's smooth northern timbre finally cut in.

“Morning Rick,” Jon called as he passed Rickons room.

“Morning Jon!” His little brother called excitedly, clearly thrilled that today was the big day.

Jon didn’t bother greeting the girls. They were still engaged in a shouting match in Arya’s room, Sansa demanding her jumper be returned, and he didn’t want to risk being dragged into it.

“Get out of my room!” His youngest sister shrieked.

“Not until you give it back!” Sansa growled.

Jon reached the main staircase and trotted down it to the first, and then ground floor. He stepped into the entryway and swung around the corner into the living room where found Bran already sitting in one of the large chairs there, seemingly engrossed in a book.

“Morning Jon,” he called without looking up from the novel. It was always creepy how he could do that.

“Morning” he replied, plopping down on an adjacent sofa.

“Well look who decided to finally join us,” 

Jon whipped his head around to find Robb leaning against the frame of the entryway.

“You all sounded like you were having so much fun, I didn’t want to spoil it.” Jon deadpanned.

Robb huffed and shook his head, “you got too good of a deal with that tower my friend.”

He smirked, “Don’t I know it”

Loud, angry footsteps came echoing down the stairs. Sansa suddenly appeared, practically slammed her bags down by the door and trudged past Robb to take a seat on a nearby settee with a huff.

“Rough morning?” Robb teased.

“I can’t wait to never live with her again!” she exclaimed dramatically.

“It was a rhetorical question,” Robb muttered under his breath, earning a glare from his sister.

Catelyn Stark came into view in the entryway. The middle-aged red-head wore a long coat and a handbag on her arm, the clear signal that it was time to leave.

They all got the message and moved to get up. 

“Rickon!” She called up the stairs.

“Coming!” His small voice shouted back, the sounds of his footsteps bounding quickly down the stairs.

“Please don’t run!” Catelyn reminded him, only causing him to slow his descent _ever_ so slightly. In true Rickon fashion, he skipped the last few steps and jumped down instead.

Just as the youngest Stark’s feet hit the floor, his father emerged from the kitchen. 

Even though he’d lived with him his whole life, Ned Stark had a way of impressing Jon every time he was near. He was an imposing presence and yet most often had a warm smile on his face. He commanded both respect and admiration from everyone he met, and his family was no exception. Him just being in the room seemed to brighten everyone’s mood.

The Stark patriarch looked around, impressed. “Well this may be a new record for this family. Is everyone ready on time?”

“Not quite,” Catelyn replied. “Arya!” she shouted up the stairs.

There was no response other than the incessant meowing of Shaggy, now back in his cage at Rickon's feet.

Catelyn sighed, “Arya Stark I swear to the Stranger if you are not downstairs in the next ten seconds so help me I will-“

“I’m here!” She exclaimed from behind her mother, a bit louder than necessary to make her mother jump.

It had the desired effect and Catelyn quickly whirled around on her in fury, “What have I told you about illegally apparating in this house!”

“Mum I’ve been down here the whole time,” she replied cooly.

Cat stared her down, looking for any hint of deception. Arya simply raised an eyebrow in mock confusion.

Lady stark let out a breath in frustration, turning to address the rest of the family, “Fine, let’s just get leaving,”

Jon sidled up next to Arya and leaned in close to whisper out of Catelyn’s earshot. “Liar,” He teased, causing her cool mask to break into a smirk. She elbowed him conspiratorially, making him smile. 

Catelyn turned back around, and they both quickly forced their expressions back to neutral. 

The lady stark took one last inventory of everyone and nodded, “Alright then.” 

And just like that she took Rickon and Bran by the arms and disapparated, making a brief  _ schloop _ sound like something solid being sucked quickly through a straw.

Ned stepped up next, holding his arm out for Sansa. The eldest stark girl obediently moved to wrap her arm around it like a proper lady. He raised his other arm and looked over at Arya, raising an eyebrow when she didn’t move. The youngest stark girl sighed dramatically and trudged over to grab it.

With that Ned gave the boys a look that clearly said _ no nonsense please _ , before disapparating himself and the girls the same way Cat had the youngest boys. 

Left in relative silence, compared to the earlier cacophony of voices, Jon looked over at his brother. Robb gestured to the center of the room and insisted, “After you brother,” in a mockingly posh accent.

Jon shook his head and chuckled, stepping forward and swishing his wand through the air mid stride. 

The world swirled around him and he felt the intense sensation of simultaneously being stretched in every direction and squeezed from all sides. He focused hard on the location he was aiming for, knowing a moment's distraction could spell disaster. Just when he thought he couldn’t be stretched or squeezed much more, everything suddenly snapped back like a rubber band, leaving him in a different place entirely. 

It took him a moment to fully get his head back on straight and register exactly where he was. He’d apparated at least a thousand times before, but this was much further than usual, and besides, he didn’t think he’d ever fully get used to it. 

He found himself walking amidst the usual morning foot traffic on the sidewalks of London. He stepped out of the way, looked up and scanned his surroundings, his gaze immediately finding the massive arched windows and clock tower of Kings Cross Station. He smiled to himself. __

_ Not too shabby. _

...

As he entered the cavernous building, he spotted his younger siblings loading their bags onto luggage trolleys. He could already hear the echoes of Catelyn chastising the youngest ones for goofing off, making him decide to forgo the trolley and risk a possible sore wrist rather than an encounter with her.

He saw someone approaching out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Robb coming to stand beside him. His brother also had minimal baggage. They’d both learned the previous year to enchant a carrying vessel to be larger on the inside. They’d had varying success, but were both at least able to expand a suitcase to fit all their belongings.

His brother watched the family chaos at the trolleys as well, shaking his head and sighing. He looked over at Jon with a mischievous smile, “Shortcut?”

Jon smirked back and gave him a quick nod.

The two of them turned away from observing the family circus and walked toward the opposite side of the station. Jon knew their destination: a small gap between a map kiosk and a coffee stand, just wide enough for a single person to walk through. Robb moved slightly ahead as they approached, casually slipping between the two structures and disapparating as soon as he was out of the muggles’ line of sight. Jon followed shortly behind and with a flick of his wand and what felt like a momentary spin in a laundry machine, he was suddenly standing right outside the familiar brick wall that was the entrance to platform 9 ¾ .

Jon found his brother leaning against the wall a few yards away.

“What took you so long?” he teased.

Jon shrugged, “Just had to obliviate a few muggles who saw your obvious display of amateur apparition is all,”

Robb laughed heartily, making Jon smile. “Touché brother, touché,”

Just a few moments later the Stark clan came bustling along with their carts. 

Arya walked straight up to Jon and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” he inquired, rubbing his bicep where she’d clocked him with surprising strength.

“For leaving me with them!” She hissed under her breath.

Robb chuckled. “Probably deserved it- hey!” he yelped as she walloped his arm too.

“Enough, children.” Ned called good-heartedly.

They all turned to watch Rickon push his trolley toward the entrance for the first time. It was a sweet moment with Ned helping him push, and they all cheered as the duo successfully passed through the wall on the first try. It was short lived for Jon though as he unintentionally made eye contact with Catelyn and was immediately served an icy glare. She always had to be there, reminding him at every family moment that he didn’t belong. He looked away and refocused on the train of trolley-pushing starks. Next was Bran running full speed ahead as if he had to actually break down the wall, then Arya, giving a quick running start before jumping onto the cart to ride it, and finally Sansa, pushing hers rather slowly as if the running was too childish for her nowadays. 

That left Catelyn and Jon alone. She threw him a final cold glance as if to say  _ don’t follow me _ , and headed after Sansa. Jon just sighed and counted to ten, giving her a solid head start.

The moment he crossed onto the platform he felt a familiar nostalgia settle over him. The air seemed different there, lighter, somehow. It reminded him of simpler times.

The Hogwarts Express sat in all its glory just a few yards down the track, students queueing up at every entrance.

Jon saw the Starks queueing up at the closest one and decided the second closest one was the best bet for himself. He carefully moved through the crowd and headed down the platform.

As he passed the family, his father caught his eye and gave a brief hand gesture that Jon knew meant  _ I’ll follow you. _ Jon nodded and continued toward the queue for the next entrance. 

He reached the back of the line and watched as the attendant at the entrance loaded each student's bags.

He chanced a glance back over at the other line and saw his father approaching. The elder Stark came to stand next to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Your final year,” he said with a proud smile. He raised an eyebrow, “quite an accomplishment,”

“Yeah, well,” Jon replied with a smirk “I’m as surprised as you are” 

Ned chuckled, “Nonsense. You’ve always been too smart for your own good. Smarter than me for certain.” 

“well that’s not saying much,” Jon jested back.

“Ohoh!” The man laughed, grabbing his chest, miming a pain in his heart, “Go easy on an old man would ya?”

Jon smiled a real smile then, and he enjoyed the warm moment with his father. They felt rare these days. It was short lived as he sensed a shift in his father’s demeanor. The man seemed to glance around as if making sure that no one was watching or listening in.

“Did you pack enough supplies?” He suddenly asked in a lowered voice.

Jon sighed, “Enough for the next three months in case I can’t restock for any reason. Just like always.” He lifted his case slightly to imply its contents.

Ned nodded, seemingly satisfied but not at ease.

“I know it can be tempting to seek connection with others like you but it will put you at great r-“

“Dad,” he interrupted in exasperation.

“I know, I know, you know all this. You can take care of yourself, but I have to say it anyway. You may be a man now, but you are still my son and my responsibility.” Ned countered, “You’ll understand someday when you have children.”

Jon nodded, but dropped his gaze. Unable to look at his father and lie. The truth was he would never condemn a child to live this cursed life. But his father didn’t need to hear that.

“I’m proud of you, Jon” Ned told him, “Your mother would’ve been to,”

At that Jon’s head shot up, but he found his father looking at the ground. Jon could count on one hand the number of times his father had spoken of his mother, and that included this time. 

When his father met his eyes again, he gave him a warm smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and it was as if the previous moment had never happened. 

“I’ll see you at Christmas,” Ned offered.

“See you at Christmas” jon returned with a similarly forced smile, and turned to walk toward the train, his head reeling a bit from the interaction.

“Jon,” his father called after him, halting him in his tracks. He looked back and found a pained expression on the patriarch’s face. The older man sighed and stepped close to his son again to speak only for his ears.

“There is a reason we hide, son, but that reason isn’t shame.” He whispered insistently, his eyes searching his son’s for a sign of comprehension, “Remember that.”

Jon nodded, a bit taken aback by his father's sudden intensity. Ned nodded back, seeming almost saddened by his own statement. He forced another smile onto his face as he patted Jon on the arm and turned to head back and join his wife. 

Jon watched him go, thinking everything he had said. He wasn’t sure if he agreed with that last part, but decided it was useless to dwell on the things his father said as they so rarely ever received an explanation. 

So with one last look at the family he’d never truly be a part of, he turned and boarded the train that would take him back to the place that he had come to think of as his _real_ home. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I did say in the comments that I’d give you even more mystery!!  
> What is Jon hiding? How is Ned involved? What ‘supplies‘ did he bring??? You’ll have to wait and see!
> 
> Love you guys! please keep commenting if you’re enjoying the story, it really keeps me motivated!


	3. A Long-expected Journey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starks on a Train! There’s gotta be a pun in there somewhere...

“When does the honeydukes trolley come around?” Rickon asked, practically bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

They’d only settled into the compartment five minutes ago and the youngest Stark was already antsy. It was going to be a long ride.

“We haven’t even started moving yet,” Robb chuckled, playfully nudging him with his elbow. It was uncanny how much they looked alike. Same Tully red hair and blue eyes, same strong Stark jawline, same permanent smirk and mischievous glint in their eyes. They were like the jumbo and mini versions of the same person.

Jon felt a pang of jealousy as he watched them. Not for how they looked, but how anyone could see that they were family without a second glance. He supposed he had that with Arya in theory, but it would never feel the same when he couldn’t even claim the same surname.

His youngest sister was sitting across from him, engrossed in the latest edition of The Daily Prophet, habitually chewing on a fingernail.

He called over at her, “Why do you read that rubbish?”

Arya smirked with a shrug of her shoulders. “ _Because_ it’s rubbish. Real news is boring,” she answered plainly as if he was the one being ridiculous, and went back to reading.

He shook his head in amusement at her very Arya response just as the compartment door flew open. 

“Ello, shitheads!” Their foster brother greeted as he stepped into the small room and plopped down dramatically between Robb and Rickon. 

“Language!” Jon reprimanded him, nodding toward the youngest stark.

Theon glanced at the boy next to him.

“My apologies,” he clarified, “ _Good morning_ , shitheads!”

Jon rolled his eyes as Rickon giggled.

“On that note I think i'll go check on our departure.” He muttered, already needing a break from Greyjoy’s antics. 

Theon had spent most of his childhood at winterfell. Ned had taken him in when his parents were sent to Azkaban for plotting to overthrow the ministry. His twin sister Asha had gone to live with an uncle in the iron islands, but they stayed close because she also attended Hogwarts. This past summer, when they’d each turned 17 and took control of their estate, the siblings decided to move back into their ancestral home. Jon was happy for Theon, but he hadn’t missed him. 

He slid the door back open and stepped into the corridor, watching his siblings laugh and start to catch up with Greyjoy as he slid it closed. He wondered if he’d ever feel as comfortable with his own biological family as their surrogate brother seemed to.

He turned to walk down the hall, lost in his thoughts. 

He hadn’t made it more than 10 feet when he walked straight into someone whom he hadn’t seen at all in his trance.

His hands shot forward to keep the girl from toppling over from the impact. 

“Shite, I’m so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

He found himself trailing off as his eyes focused on the creature in front of him.

She was easily the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. She was almost other-worldly, her hair so pale it was near white, and eyes a bright shade of violet. He’d never actually met one, but her traits were unmistakably Veela.

He knew from his studies in History of Magic, as well as general wizard gossip, that Veela were rare these days, especially in the UK. Tywin Lannister, the minister of magic over the past 12 years, had enforced strict regulations on the “inter-mingling of species” as he put it. Most Veela and Veela-blooded families had long-since moved back to mainland Europe or the Slavic countries where the veela population was highest, so he was definitely surprised to be meeting one here, on a train where he knew nearly everyone over the age of eleven, and certainly would have noticed her before.

But it wasn’t just her exoticness that caught his attention. The young woman looked as though she’d been crying, the skin under her eyes puffy and damp. And from those eyes, an almost palpable aura of sadness seemed to radiate, pulling at his heart strings in a painful way, and yet he couldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until she suddenly dropped her gaze and stepped out of his grasp that he realized he’d been gawking at her. He started to formulate an apology for his behavior but she muttered a brief “my fault” and slipped past him down the hall, before he could get a single word out. The interaction left his mind reeling. He turned to call after her and maybe at least get her name but he was only in time to hear the click of her shutting herself in the girl’s lavatory.

He stood there in shock for a moment, unsure why the small interaction had his head reeling.

He wasn’t sure how long he had ended up standing in that one spot before finally making his way back to the compartment he’d come from. A minute? An hour?

He must’ve had some look on his face when he slipped back into the small room and closed the door behind him.

Arya immediately put down the newspaper and asked, “You alright there brother?”

He snapped out of his trance and looked up at her. “Huh? Yeah, uh, fine. I just-“ he trailed off as he returned to his seat. 

“You just…?” She prompted him, bringing him back out of his thoughts which he’d gotten lost in again.

“Sorry, I just- I think I may have just met a Veela.”

“A Veela?” Robb quickly inquired, uncrossing his legs as he joined the conversation. His curiosity was clearly piqued.

“Yeah,” Jon huffed in disbelief, “or someone with a hell of a lot of Veela blood.”

“On the train?” Robb asked.

Jon nodded.

“One of the first-years maybe?” Arya offered.

He thought about how just how clearly she was _not_ eleven years old. 

“Definitely, not.” He coughed, causing Robb to throw him a knowing smirk with an eyebrow raised. Jon looked down briefly to hide the guilty smile threatening to break onto his face.

Arya seemed nonplussed. “That doesn’t make any sense. Hogwarts doesn't accept transfers, do they?” She asked, looking between her brothers.

Robb shook his head, “Not in the seven years we’ve been there. Only new students we’ve ever met were first-years.”

Arya went silent for a moment, chewing on her fingernail again in deep thought. She always loved a good mystery. “And you’re sure it was a Veela?” She pressed further.

“I mean, no, because I’ve never met one, but I can’t imagine white hair and purple eyes is a common combination otherwise.” He deadpanned.

She nodded, returning to her habit, but then suddenly froze. Her eyes shot up to his. She suddenly picked back up the newspaper from her lap and started flipping through it so quickly he was concerned she’d cut herself.

Her intensity surprised him. She looked over at Robb and his brother just shrugged.

“Did she tell you her name?” His sisters asked, not looking up from the paper that she was practically tearing through in a ravenous search for something.

He shook his head, “No, she-“

“Is this the girl?” She cut him off, shoving the newspaper toward him so quickly he nearly jumped.

It took him a second to process the sudden request and scanned the paper. He finally located the picture she was referencing. Staring back at him with those same sad eyes was the girl from the hall. Without even thinking he grabbed the paper from her and inspected it more closely. The image showed the girl sitting in the witness chair of a ministry courtroom. It was a brief loop of her looking down, seemingly lost in concerning thought, then suddenly up at the picture taker as if they’d called her name. The pain behind her eyes was evident even through the paper.

“ _Jon_?” His sister pestered him, needing an answer.

He looked up and nodded, confirming Arya’s suspicions.

“No bloody way,” she exclaimed, a wry smile creeping across her face.

“Who is she?” He asked, returning his gaze to the article in search of answers.

Arya scoffed, drawing his attention back.

 _“Who is she?”_ She asked incredulously, “Daenerys Targaryen?”

Now that got his attention.

“As in headmaster Aemon Targaryen?”

Schedule scoffed at his question, “As in the Mad King’s Daughter? The last dragon? May or may not have murdered her own brother in cold blood? Seven hells Jon do you live in a tower or under a rock?”

“Holy shit,” Robb muttered, grabbing the paper from him and looking for himself.

“I just don’t spend my time reading garbage,” Jon countered to his sister’s previous comment.

“Yeah, Quasimodo here would rather spend his time moping around his bell tower, crying about how no one will ever love him.” Theon teased with a smug look, clearly proud of himself for the literary reference.

“Fuck off, Greyjoy,” Jon threw back.

“ _Language!_ ” His foster brother mocked.

“So she’s Aemon’s niece?”

“Great-great-niece. Her father Aerys was his great-nephew.”

They’d learned about him in the History of Magic. He’d been the Minister of Magic before Tywin Lannister. He’d started to go mad, condemning anyone who challenged him to Azkaban, or worse, execution; earning him an ominous moniker and a permanent place in magic history.

“The Mad King,” he recalled.

“Hence the nickname,” She confirmed, “she got it 4 months ago when she was found standing over her brother’s dead body in her dormitory at Beauxbatons. I’m honestly shocked you haven’t heard about it, It’s been everywhere over the summer.”

“Do you think she did it?” Robb asked.

“I think we'll probably never know because who can trust anything printed in The Daily Prophet?”

Jon grabbed the newspaper back from Robb, located the article by the picture and scanned it.

It was scathing to be sure, Littlefinger’s stance on the case was clear, but between the lines read a much different, and much sadder story. 

Her father descending into madness, both her parents suddenly killed in a fire when she was only three, her oldest brother and his family murdered for revenge against the mad king, her only surviving family member now dead under mysterious circumstances.

No wonder she’d been crying.

…

  
  


“ _My dearest niece,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, if that is possible, given the circumstances. I am writing to you in hopes of making up for my absence these past 18 years. You are likely surprised, confused, angry, or all three to hear from your long lost Uncle. It is my greatest regret that I did not foster a relationship between us after your parents passed. I was already a very old man when it happened, and I let my physical limitations be an excuse for my cowardice._

_Your father made it very clear that I was not welcome in your life, and I feared that you believed me to be a cruel and horrible man even after his passing. When Ser Darry stepped up to care for you, I convinced myself that you were better off, but these recent events have forced me to re-evaluate that choice._

_I know Cersei Lannister to be a cold and calculating woman. You are not the first promising young witch to be the target of her ire, and I fear you will not be the last. That being said, I have heard of your recent troubles and am blessed to be in a position to help._

_I know I am 18 years late, and you may want nothing to do with me, which is your right. However, your mother Rhaella was the most forgiving woman I’ve ever met, and if your picture and transcripts are any indication, you likely inherited much from her. I hope you can accept my apology, but even if not, please accept my invitation to attend Hogwarts for your final year of wizarding education. Such a bright wizarding mind should not be squandered by the likes of Cersei._

_Take care, and I hope to see you in the fall._

_-Headmaster Aemon Targaryen_ ”

By the 5th hour of the journey, Dany must’ve read the letter over a hundred times. 

She kept running scenarios in her head of what it would be like to meet her great-great uncle, the only other living Targaryen. 

Would he be conniving and arrogant as her father and Cersei had portrayed him? or wise and kind-hearted as her mother had said and his letter made him seem? She tried not to form an expectation in fear that she would be disappointed. After all, he was a very old man, and could have changed over the years either way.

He’d given up his claim to the family estate long ago, and was hardly considered a Targaryen in the family history books. Varys had forced her to study the family line.

_We are the last dragons little sister. We must know our families legacy so we can restore it._

She shivered as she thought of her brother. The way his gaze always lingered on her body a little too long. The way he always whispered in her ear a little to close. The way his grip on her was always a little too tight.

And the way his face seemed frozen in fear as he lay on her bedroom floor, dead.

She shook her head to banish the terrible memories.

She finally sighed and tucked away the letter, deciding that overthinking it would only serve to make her more anxious.

She looked out the window at the rolling countryside. They were far from the big city now and the green hills seemed to stretch for ages. The landscape was dotted with the occasional town or village, but the further north they went, the fewer she saw. 

Drogon was now curled up in the seat next to her, close but not touching as he always seemed to prefer when sleeping. He looked so cute when he was this tranquil and she was tempted to reach out and pet him, but thinking back on the previous 5 hours stopped her. 

For the first hour the cat had explored every inch of the compartment, knocking as many of her belongings off the overhead shelves as possible (each time yowling and running scared with a growl as if the item had attacked him). He then spent the better part of the second pawing and scratching at the door in every possible direction in a pathetic escape attempt. The third hour had been mostly him batting things out of her hand and suddenly attacking articles of her clothing. During the fourth he had finally started to settle, and mostly stared out the window, watching things zoom by and making himself dizzy. Then only a few minutes prior he seemed to finally tire out and jumped up onto the adjacent seat to curl up and nap. 

She wasn’t going to risk waking him, even if she knew his fur was soft, and he did look adorable.

They say not to wake a sleeping Dragon she mused to herself.

She checked her watch. They were still at least a few hours away from Hogsmeade, so she wrapped her cardigan around herself and settled further into her seat. She let her head rest against the cool glass of the window and closed her eyes. She let out a deep breath and with it, all the anxious thoughts in her mind, letting the rocking of the train lull her to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter will be the welcome feast!  
> As always comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	4. Gorgeous Beasts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I couldn’t wait to post this scene! Let me know what you think. I’ll finish and post the rest of what should‘ve been this chapter tomorrow so you dont have to wait long!

Daenerys was woken by the bustling of students in the corridor. She felt the stillness of the train and quickly realized they had come to a stop. She stood to look out the window, searching the darkness for a sign of their location. A few mounted lanterns lit what looked to be the platform a small train station, with almost no identifying features save for an old wooden sign with fading letters reading _Hogsmeade._ The heads of disembarking students bobbed by at the bottom of the window, confirming her suspicions that they had arrived at their destination.

She straightened her skirt and re-tucked her blouse before running her hands over her curls to smooth away any frizz that may’ve been created while she was sleeping. She couldn’t shake the training that Cersei had drilled into her over the years, no matter how much she wished to.

With a quick glimpse into a pocket mirror she was satisfied with her appearance. She snapped it closed and slid it into her skirt pocket, which had been enchanted to deposit straight into one of her bags as long as it was nearby.

She bent over and scooped up Drogon who grumbled a low growl, but thankfully didn’t choose to attack her hands, instead going limp like a noodle in protest. She was grateful for the small win. She deposited him back into his cage and closed the door behind him, immediately eliciting a yowl from her furry child.

“I know, I know. Just for a bit longer, I promise.” She told the cat as she stretched up on tiptoe to reach her bags on the overhead shelf. Once they were down, she carefully gather the handles of both in one hand and lifted Drogon’s cage in the other. Using her elbow she pushed open the compartment door and stepped into the nearly empty corridor.

As she walked towards the closest exit she saw a few students were still disembarking. One girl was rushing around from compartment to compartment desperately to find a loose animal companion, and another two first year boys were crawling around looking for a wand they suspected had rolled away. She was grateful she wouldn’t be the one to hold everyone else up and draw even more attention to herself.

She reached the same entrance she’d come in through and carefully stepped down off the train car into the cool night air. It was warmer than she expected this far north, but still chilly enough to keep her from staying in one place too long, so she looked down the platform and followed some of the last travelers were still making their way toward and into the station. It was a relatively small stone building with gothic archways and a steep roof, looking more like a tiny cathedral than a train station. She reached the platform-side entrance and continued in, grateful to have a brief respite from the cold before she had to exit out the other side to where she could hear the students gathered. 

Inside their was a group of students gathered who must’ve been the first years, based on their oohing and ahhing at everything around them. They were all facing a friendly looking middle aged man with a short grey beard, a mostly bald head, and a lively Geordie accent, giving a speech about what they could expect their first night. 

She couldn’t help but linger a moment and listen in.

“Now I really shouldn’t have to say it, but there's always one of ye who thinks its a bright Idea to stand up before we’ve fully docked. Don’t be that person. You will end up in the water, and I’m certainly not coming in after ye-“

The man stopped as he spotted her, and she startled a bit, looking away and then back to him, unsure what to do before he smiled warmly and said, “Excuse me for just one moment my friends. Don’t wander off now,” 

The kids started murmuring amongst themselves and the man scooted through the crowd to where Dany was standing.

“You must be Daenerys” he greeted.

She nodded with a smile that she hoped reached her eyes. “You are?”

“Davos Seaworth, groundskeeper,” he introduced himself, extending a hand which she shook. “And professor,” he added, as an afterthought “but that part’s relatively new so we’ll see how long it lasts” he joked, putting her a bit more at ease. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had joked with her, and not with her as the punchline. 

“Well it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance” she returned.

“Ah, Aemon told me you were trained at Beauxbatons, I’m afraid I may offend you with my lack of proper manners.” 

She smiled that time without having to force it. “A friend of mine once told me ‘proper manners are for proper liars. Talk straight or i'll assume you’re crooked.’” she told him, remembering Olenna’s tea-time wisdom, “I appreciate people who live by that rule.”

He chuckled, shaking a finger at her, “a sharp mind, now I see the resemblance. You and your uncle will get along just fine.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the mention of her long lost uncle. She hoped he was right.

“He told me if I saw you to tell you that you don’t have to do the ceremonial first year stuff if you prefer. You can head straight up to the castle with the other students. There will be a student advisor waiting there for you. He’ll take you straight to Aemon’s office so you can speak with him before the feast.”

She nodded, grateful to not have to wait any longer to meet her only living family member, and very grateful to not have to tag along with 40 eleven-year-olds. “Thank you, professor.”

“Davos is just fine,” he smiled wryly, “if you call me professor I won't know who you’re talking to.”

With that he turned and gathered the attention of the first years once more.

“Alright, alright, pipe down for just a moment please…”

His words became too quiet to decipher as she stepped out onto the station entryway stairs. She took in the scene before her and was immediately struck with a pang of homesickness. 

The stairs deposited onto a narrow dirt road, the forest on either side, and along the road, as far as she could see, were carriages pulled by large winged horses. Flashbacks of her many trips to beauxbatons flooded her mind. Only these horses were no Abraxans. They were nearly skeletal, with leathery, almost reptilian black skin that shone in the moonlight. At first she thought it was just the reflection, but when one turned its head she saw its eyes were truly white and almost iridescent. Their noses were hooked and beak-like, and they had sharp horns where their ears should’ve been. 

She knew what these were but had never seen one before. 

Thestrals.

She didn’t know how to feel as she looked at them. They were beautiful, but seeing them for the first time called forth everything she’d been trying to bury. 

_Her father. Her mother. Rhaegar. Ser Willem. Drogo. Viserys._

Their faces seemed to bubble up inside her like a kettle starting to boil. The kettle boiled over and she found herself almost unaware of her actions as she carefully placed her bags on the ground and walked toward the winged creatures. 

As she approached the nearest one, it turned and looked at her, its milky eyes meeting hers. She slowly reached out an open hand and held it palm up near its snout. She waited. 

It huffed and sniffed at the air near her hand inching closer until dany could feel its hot breath on her fingers. She kept its gaze as it blinked, seemingly sizing her up and seeming to sense something within her. It’s head hung there ever so slightly out of reach just long enough to make her question if it would move any closer. But then suddenly it pressed its smooth beak against her palm. She let out a deep breath and slowly brought her other hand over to rest on its snout. He couldn’t help but smile slightly as she stroked over the creature’s leathery skin.

She had always connected better with animals than people, and nowadays it seemed like the only connection she had, so she grasped at it every chance she could. It made her feel a little less alone, and bolstered her ever-weakening belief that she actually was a good person.

“They’re gorgeous beasts aren’t they?” A voice called from behind her. 

A bit embarrassed to be caught but also somewhat annoyed to be interrupted, she whipped her head around and blurted out, “They’re not beasts.” 

Her jaw dropped slightly as she realized the speaker was a somewhat familiar face. It was the student who she had collided with in the train corridor. She immediately kicked herself for her defensive reaction, but she’d always hated that word to describe magical creatures. 

To her surprise he smiled slightly and nodded, stepping toward the creature. He approached it much faster than she had, but the scaly horse didn't even flinch as he stroked his hand down its snout and reached up to scratch it behind its horns. The usually invisible creature even leaned into his, touch clearly familiar with him. Her mind swam with questions.

“You can see them too.” Was the first that came to mind, though she said it as more of an observation than a question, based on how he interacted with them.

He met her gaze and then looked away, seeming to consider his answer. He reached into his pocket and pulled something out. He unwrapped it and when it started to wiggle about in his palm she realized it was a licorice snap. He held it out to the thestral and it quickly gobbled it up, crunching away happily. 

“Aye,” he finally said, and met her gaze once more, “it seems we both can.”

She saw that look in his eyes from earlier that had made it so hard to look away, and this time she recognized it. It was the same look she saw staring back at her from the mirror every day.

Pain. 

Dany was about to ask him his name when he suddenly gave her a quick, sad smile and turned to walk away.

She watched him go until he ducked into the second closest carriage and disappeared from sight.

She stood there for a few moments longer.

_So many questions._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short but good right?? At least I hope *shrug emoji*  
> As always please comment and bookmark! It encourages other readers to take a chance on this story :)  
> Check back tomorrow for another chapter!


	5. A Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daenerys arrives at Hogwarts and finally meets the man she’s been wondering about since she received his letter 3 months ago.

As they bumped along the dirt road, Dany found herself uncomfortable, and not because of the rustic carriage.

She actually found it to be rather nice. It was nothing compared to the lavish baroque design of the ones she was used to, but still, it had a charm to it. Iron sconces lit the interior, giving off a cozy glow. The sides and benches were made of rich mahogany, and furnished with red velvet cushions. 

But all the fine furnishings in France couldn’t have made the other students speak to her. Or speak at all.

Instead they all opted to stay silent and pretend they didn’t notice her, even though she could feel their stares. Every so often she’d look up just in time to catch someone turning to look away. One of the bolder ones made a show of looking her up and down before scoffing and whispering to the girl next to her.

It only took 5 minutes for her to regret not going with the 11 year olds.

Luckily it was a fairly short trip.

Only a few minutes later, they broke through the tree line, and Dany’s eyes immediately flew to the massive structure on the next ridge. 

Hogwarts castle stood proudly on the cliff’s edge, its towers reaching high into the night sky. It was an impressive sight, it’s position On the steep ledge seeming to amplify its size. It almost appeared as though the whole thing was a part of the mountain, rising straight out of the lake. 

The nearer it drew, the larger it became, and she began to suspect it might even be larger than her previous school. 

Beauxbatons was also a large mountain castle: a grand chateau in the Pyrénées mountains on France's southern border. They had an ages-old rivalry with Hogwarts, but since the disbanding of the Triwizard tournament almost twenty years ago, the schools seldom interacted. She’d only ever seen drawings in her history books, and the occasional old photo in the trophy room.

They hadn’t done it justice. 

Unlike the strictly planned and near symmetrical design of the academy, this castle was comprised of many towers and wings of all shapes and sizes, as if structures had been continuously added over the decades to accommodate more students. Daenerys suspected that was likely the case. The hundreds of windows seemed to all be illuminated in greeting, making it almost blend into the night sky which was full of stars on such a cold, clear night. 

After another 5 minutes of bumps, turns, and awkward silence, the swaying and jostling smoothed out as they pulled onto a stone bridge. She had seen it from afar when she’d first spotted the castle, down near the rocky cliffs. It stretched from the ledge they had been steadily climbing, out over an inlet of the lake, and directly onto the castle grounds. Dany could hear the water lapping at the rocks far below them as they made their approach. 

Hogwarts began to loom over them, somehow seeming to grow even larger, and a strange feeling settled over her. She couldn't quite identify it, landing somewhere between exhilaration and foreboding. The closer they got, the stronger it became.

Finally they pulled off the bridge and into a large courtyard, surrounded on all sides by cloistered walkways leading into different halls and buildings. The first few carriages began to circle around the edge and make room for the others. From what she could see there had to be over a dozen.

The wagon lurched as they pulled to a stop and she was grateful to have been the last person to board as she could now be the first person to exit and escape the stifling atmosphere. The door swung open on its own and she quickly exited, grateful to be back in the open air. 

She took in the sights around her. The courtyard was starting to fill with students as they disembarked and greeted their friends, some heading directly toward what seemed to be the entrance of some sort of grand hall, and she suspected that was where the welcome banquet would be held. 

None of the students were grabbing their luggage, and she wondered if it would be sent to their assigned rooms for them. She of course didn’t have a room yet, so she headed to the back of the carriage to locate her things. They were still seated right on top, and she pulled back the leather cover on Drogon’s cage to check on him. He greeted her with a startled hiss before immediately breaking into a fit of meows to express his displeasure at the bumpy ride. She sighed exhaustedly at him and lifted him down to the ground, cage and all. She was about to turn back to grab the other bags, but was stopped by a nervous voice. 

“Um, Miss Targaryen?” A voice called to her from a few yards away.

She looked up to find a stout young man with flat brown hair standing nearby, already dressed in his school robes for the feast. He had trouble maintaining eye contact with her and he fidgeted as he seemed to ponder on what to say next.

“I’m Samwell Tarly,” he suddenly explained, “Davos may have mentioned me if you got a chance to speak with him,”

She nodded, though the name didn't sound familiar, “He mentioned someone would be here to escort me to my Uncle.”

“That would be me,” the boy said with a nervous smile. He gestured to her bags, “I can help you with those,”

“Thank you.” He moved to pick up Drogons cage and she lunged to stop him “Don’t-“ It was too late. The cat let out a shriek and a growl making the poor boy jump backwards.

She quickly bent down and lowered the cover again. “Sorry, he’s not good with strangers.” She offered, hoping the young man wouldn’t suddenly bolt in the other direction the way he looked like he wanted to.

Sam just nodded, attempting to regain his composure as he reached for the bags that were still on the carriage. He got one down easy but the other clipped the side of the carriage and was knocked from his hand and into the dirt at her feet. He looked at her in horror as if he’d just signed his own death warrant. 

“Oh gods, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t- I didnt-” 

She merely bent down to pick it up and handed it back to him. He looked nervously at the bag, hesitating to grab it from her as if it was booby trapped. She realized this boy was genuinely afraid of her. She sighed and smiled as warmly as she could, “its only a bag,” she assured him with a small smile, trying to cut the tension. She nodded to the bag as if to say _go ahead_. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping a few inches as he let out a relieved breath. He nodded and took the bag from her. She picked up Drogons cage and gestured for Sam to lead the way. 

He lead her across the courtyard to a long hallway. That hallway lead to another, and another, and then a large staircase that wound up along the inner edge of a tower. She was already completely turned around as they started to climb. They continued their trek for many minutes, growing higher and higher. The whole time Sam chattered away, clearly a nervous talker.

“He’s a fine man, the headmaster. Gave me a place to live when my parents kicked me out. Now I’m his steward, I do anything he needs, read him his mail, write his responses, organize his papers, I don't know how he got along without any assistance for so long. Though he’s still quite the powerful wizard so I supposed he probably knows some charms that I don't since I’ve never been blind before. He-“

“He’s blind?” She asked, interrupting slightly but not knowing if she’d get the chance to speak otherwise. She was bit out of breath as well. Beauxbatons didn’t have nearly this number of stairs.

Sam didn’t seem to mind the interjection, just nodded and continued, “Has been as long as I’ve known him, probably much longer. Not that you’d hardly notice with how observant he is. I can’t even sneak a lemon cake off his desk without him noticing. He gets around just fine too, though being the only one allowed to apparate on campus must make it a bit easier.”

That caught her a bit off guard. With all the things she’d heard about the man, she’d never heard of his blindness. Though she supposed that wasn’t the kind of thing people usually spoke about. It made her mind start to spin though. Did she really know anything about this man? She’d only considered two possibilities; good and evil. She hadn’t thought much about his age, only that he was well over 100 years old to have witnessed the past two wizarding wars. Wizards could age very slowly, but if he was blind, what if he was also fragile and close to death? The thought settled like a stone in the pit of her stomach. She’d come all this way and it could end the same way it always had.

“Here we are,” Sam suddenly announced, snapping her out of her thoughts as they reached a bronze Dragon sculpture. She was about to ask why they’d stopped here of all places when Sam leaned in close to the statue and whispered...

“ _Lemon cakes_ ” 

Immediately the metal creature started to rumble as it slowly spun, raising up as it revealed a spiral staircase. Sam stepped onto it and Daenerys followed suit. The staircase continued to rise for nearly a full minute. She could spot a glow at the top of the empty shaft they were climbing and she figured it must be their destination.

As they grew closer she could smell a fragrance of citrus and honey, reminding her of her childhood in Braavos. It made her heart ache.

They finally reached the source of the glow, a grand chamber revealing itself. They stepped down into the room and she immediately felt a sense of comfort seep into her bones. She wasn't sure where it came from, perhaps a welcoming enchantment, but she fought to keep her defenses up as he took in the space around her. 

The walls were lined from top to bottom with shelves of books, like a small library in the sky. Only one space in the walls wasn’t shelving, instead a large fireplace was home to a large crackling fire. Comfy looking furniture surrounded it, and she felt the fatigue of travel for the first time as they seemed to beckon to her, but she refused to give into It. 

The room was split into two levels, the upper one accessible by two matching staircases, and leading to a small room with a large stained glass window and even more shelves of books. On the lower level where she stood with Sam, a large desk sat in the middle of the room, with many scrolls laid out across it. She slowly approached it and found the source of the wonderful aroma that had been flooding her senses since they arrived. A perfect tray of lemon cakes sat on the left corner, freshly dusted with powdered sugar, and individually cupped in frilled paper. 

The sight brought up many emotions in her. Her favorite childhood sweet sitting on her great-great-uncle’s desk. The lonely orphan in her wondered, could it be a family resemblance? But the cynical side of her warned it may be a trick. She'd done her research on him, why couldn’t he have done the same? 

“You can have one.” A weak, scratchy voice called from the balcony above her. 

Her head whipped up to find the source of the statement. 

At the top of one of the short staircases, stood a short, frail old man. His skin was ghostly pale, but mottled with age, and his hair was pure white. He was wrapped in a long velvet robe the color of ox blood, embellished with threads of black and silver.

“Samwell is too kind, always bringing them to me from the bakery in Hogsmeade. Sometimes i think he’s trying to get me into an early grave.” the man jested.

The boy beside her chuckled and looked at his feet “it wouldn’t be _too_ early now would it?” He countered shyly.

The old man gave a great laugh, one that she could imagine echoed through the halls in his younger days, but now was just a breathy chortle that shook his old frame.

Dany was surprised by the shy boy's forwardness, and couldn't help but crack a smile as well.

“I do relish your wit Mr. Tarly,” the headmaster said with a smile that was missing a few teeth, “I'll see you at the feast my boy, leave us to get better acquainted.”

His bony hand reached out to grab the railing beside him and he slowly, but steadily descended the stairs toward Daenerys. 

Sam turned to leave but paused to say goodbye.

“It was a pleasure to meet you Miss Targaryen.” He offered, seeming surprisingly genuine.

She smiled at his polite words, “You as well, and Daenerys is fine.”

He gave her a real smile then and nodded before walking back over to the stairs, and back down the way they came.

Dany turned back to her uncle who was now at the ground level and approaching her slowly, leaning on a gnarled wooden cane. As he drew nearer his eyes confirmed what Sam had told her before. He was blind, his irises and pupils nearly blending into the whites of his eyes in a ghostly mix of purplish grey. They reminded her of the thestrals.

He stopped only a few feet from her and reached out a shaky hand, which she took in hers without thinking. All her walls seemed to be failing her at the sight of her only living blood. 

“My dear niece,” he started, voice thick with emotion, “how long I have waited for this moment,”

She didn’t know what to say. A lump had suddenly formed in her throat and all the words seemed to stick behind it.

“Come,” he said, motioning to the sitting area by the fire, “we have much to discuss”

She walked with him to the settee, giving him her arm for support. He sat first, leaning heavily on his cane for assistance, and she sat next to him only a foot away.

“Please speak my dear, as I cannot see you I long to hear your voice.”

She was struck with the realization that she hadn’t spoken once since she reached the tower.

The pressure of what to say almost paralyzed her, but she forced herself to overcome it.

“Hello,” she said, her voice high and tight. It was the only thing she could think to say.

His face lit up at the sound. 

“Hello Daenerys” he said almost reverently, with a smile that cracked her defenses.

She didn't know why those two words cut straight to her core. Maybe it was just the first quiet moment she’d had with someone who cared about her in much too long, but she began to cry. Tears streamed down her face as she lost her hold on her emotions. He must’ve heard the change in her breathing because his grip on her hand tightened in comfort.

“Sorry,” she said compulsively, furiously wiping the tears away.

“Do not apologize. Tears are not a sign of weakness, and you have gone through too much for someone so young.”

She nodded and mostly gave up on wiping the tears as they just kept coming.

“It is I who need to apologize,” he said sadly.

She shook her head, “you couldn’t have known,”

“You are kind to say that, but I should have. Cersei has always been a cruel and jealous woman. The moment she took over that school, I should have done more to assist you.” She could hear the pain in his voice, and see it in the way his eyebrows knit. “I am so sorry Daenerys. I am sorry I failed you.”

She let out a breath, his words healing a piece of her she thought Cersei had long since destroyed “You haven’t,” she vowed, “You brought me here.”

He let out a breath then too, and smiled a sad smile. He brought his other hand to rest atop hers and said firmly “You brought yourself here, I merely opened the door. You had to make the leap of faith to walk through it.”

His words washed over her and bolstered her strength in a way she hadn’t felt in ages. This man saw her in a way she even struggled to see herself:

Strong, resilient, and good. 

“Thank you for taking a chance on a foolish old man like me.” He said with such self-deprecation that she couldn’t help but love him a bit for it. She squeezed his hand back and smiled. A real full smile that reached her eyes, even as she continued to cry, and she let out a watery laugh.

In that moment Daenerys felt something blossom inside of her that she hadn’t felt in so long that she almost didn’t recognize it. Something powerful and rare that she would cling to for as long as she could.

She felt hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have cried while writing this chapter. I JUST LOVE AEMON SO MUCH OKAY?! I’m so glad I finally get to introduce you all to him, including Dany! This was such a fun one to write.   
> Next time is the welcome feast! So many house-related questions will be answered...


	6. An Untraditional Entrance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand we’re back! I’m sorry for the delay. With the corona virus shut-downs all my classes got moved online so I’ve been adjusting to the schedule and the massive amount of typing I now have to do outside of just writing. But I got it all done! Huzzah!  
> Hopefully this chapter is worth it! Its a bit longer as per request, and full of SO many introductions. I hope you enjoy!

The silence that fell across the hall as she entered on her great uncle’s arm was enough to make her question if she had any reason to be hopeful.

The jovial atmosphere she had heard as she approached the room, vanished as soon as they crossed the threshold. At first she wondered if it was the typical response the headmaster elicited upon arrival, but every shocked, fearful, accusatory stare told her otherwise. It seemed every eye in the place was on her.

She swallowed dryly and tried to avoid making anymore eye contact as she took in her surroundings.

Four long wooden tables stretched the length of the massive hall, nearly the size of a quidditch pitch and almost tall enough to host a game too. The vaulted ceiling could hardly be spotted, some sort of bewitchment making it appear like i melted away into the night sky. Flaming braziers hung from an assortment of gargoyles lining the walls, casting the large room in a warm glow. Hundreds of candles floated just above reach as well, providing even more light and appearing like stars against the darkened ceiling. It was beautiful magic, but she struggled to appreciate it as she was acutely aware of the sharp echo of her steps in the cavernous space.

She forced her focus forward, away from the ogling students.

At the end of the hall on a raised platform sat a grand table. Ornately decorated chairs lined the far side of the table, the largest and most ornate looking like a kings throne, sitting empty in the middle. On either side of it sat a variety of characters who she assumed were the professors.

The group to the right was colorful to say the least.

In the first seat to Aemon’s right sat a completely bald man in fine silk robes of purple and red. His arms were crossed calmly in front of him as he offered her a look of such pity she couldn’t bear it, forcing her to look away. She'd had enough pity for a lifetime.

The chair next to him sat empty even though a setting had been placed out. Daenerys briefly wondered who usually occupied the seat.

Her gaze continued to the next seat, where she found a man she’d never seen before, yet had a strong suspicion she knew all the same. His small stature, golden hair, and elaborate robes of red and gold gave him away instantly. A short man with a large personality, known in the Daily Prophet by many names: the little lion, the half-man, the imp, and some others even crueler.

Tyrion Lannister was clearly deep in his cups, chuckling at something undoubtedly clever he had said to a handsome, dark haired man on his left hand side, seemingly unaware of the drastic shift in atmosphere that had just occurred. When his colleague didn’t respond, and instead continued to fixate on Daenerys, the short man looked up to follow his friend’s gaze. His face fell as his eyes landed on Dany, a look of something akin to guilt taking hold of his features. She tore her eyes away, her rage toward Cersei beginning to simmer as she continued her inspection of the teachers.

The dark haired man sat comfortably askew, leaning on one armrest and twiddling one of the many rings he was wearing between his fingers as he sized her up with a casual curiosity. He was a mustachioed man with golden skin, dressed in elaborately embroidered robes of gold and orange that met in a deep V cut much lower on his chest than any of the other professors. She recognized the dornish fashions, having traveled to the region in the south of Spain on more than one occasion.

The man on his other side was of similar coloring, with a mustache as well, but had much curlier hair, and was smaller too, by quite a bit. He had an easy smile on his face and a glint in his eye as if simply being alive was amusing to him. Dany wondered what that was like. He wore much less finery than his colleague as well. Just a simple dark grey doublet with a blue tunic underneath. His only visible accessory was a pair of black quidditch gloves, which he was in the process of pulling off. The sight made her itch to fly. It had been too long.

Her eyes landed next on the most mysterious character yet. Somehow the man seemed to have no expression at all. His icy blue eyes watched her intently, but gave nothing away, not a single incite as to what he was thinking. She got the same feeling she’d had often back at the academy when studying snake charming. Like she was being observed by something venomous and swift as it gauged whether she was predator or prey. Even in the company of giants, dwarves, and elves, this man seemed decidedly not quite human. He wore a simple, light brown robe, and his brown shoulder length hair with a silver streak was unbound and seemingly unbrushed. Her eyes lingered on him a moment longer before looking to the other side of the long table.

The second group radiated a decidedly different energy, but were certainly no less mysterious. They were a much less colorful bunch, a woman dressed in all red being the only exception. 

Her eyes were immediately drawn to her, this red woman in a sea of black and grey. Everything from her hair and eyes, to her silken robes, and even the ruby that hung in an ornate setting at her throat, shined a deep red, like the color of blood. The woman returned Daenerys’s gaze with a stare that was near predatory. A slight smile played at her lips, and a feeling formed in Dany’s stomach like the woman had plans for her. A chill ran down her spine and she forced herself to look away.

Her eyes first landed on the man on the woman’s right hand, at the end of the table. He reminded her of a weasel with his lithe frame peaking out from a pile of shapeless brown fabric. His beady eyes and greasy hair only served to reinforce the comparison. The simple robe and chain of iron links told her he was an alchemist, and she immediately disliked him. Her experience with alchemist’s was limited to her interactions with Pycelle at the academy, and that left more than just a bad taste in her mouth. His calculating and mischievous gaze all but confirmed her suspicions that he was not to be trusted.

She grew tired of looking at him instantly, and quickly shifted her gaze to the tall, dour man on the red woman’s other side. He was dressed in dreary shades of grey and black, and looked incredibly unhappy to be there. He looked to be a similar age as Davos, and was balding in a similar fashion, but was atleast a full head taller, and where Davos had mile crinkles around his eyes, he had none. Instead, a deep frown seemed permanently etched onto his sharp features. His dark eyes regarded Dany with what appeared to be a mix of disdain and disinterest. It was a step up from her usual reception, but it couldn't compare to the warm smil on the familiar face in the next seat.

Davos wore the same worn, brown leather jerkin and green cloak that she had seen him in at the station, and grinned at her with a sympathetic twinkle in his eye that renewed her hope that everything might be alright. She was grateful for a glimmer of warmth in the icy sea she was currently afloat in.

Next to Davos sat a man of very large stature and an even larger presence. Though he sat silently, he commanded an air of authority so powerful she could sense it from halfway across the room. He was a bear of a man, dressed in all black leather, with a large fur cloak draped around the back of his chair. Thick white hair covered the lower half of his face and around the back of his head. He held her gaze in a sympathetic but unyielding way, and she found something familiar about his kind eyes, but couldn’t quite put a finger on it. 

In the final seat sat a man unlike any of the previous instructors. His skin was tan but not dark, and leathered from years in the sun. Deep laughter lines surrounded his mouth, which seemed to rest naturally in a content smile, with matching crows feet where his dark brown eyes crinkled in the corners. His graying hair hung long around his shoulders which were covered in a hooded cloak made of An assortment of pelts. The clothing that peaked out from underneath it appeared to be a mix of wool and leather, with no embellishments or modern features like buttons or buckles. His boots that peaked out from under the table were thick suede mukluks wrapped in a thick white fur. He looked like he could’ve been living for years in the dark forest they’d past on their way to the castle, and simply wandered inside to take a seat at the head table. And given how little she knew of how this place operated, and how little the man seemed to recognize her, she wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t exactly where this man resided. He’d given her a polite nod and then shifted his attention to the headmaster like he had no idea who she was, which was more than fine by her.

After what seemed like the longest, slowest walk of her life they finally reached the platform. Daenerys helped the aging headmaster up the two short steps and patted her arm in thanks before releasing it to face the audience of seated students.

Dany took a step back and away from her uncle before turning to face them too.

She noticed the students were separated not only by the tables, but by colors as well. Each table had settings of a pair of colors, and the students wore striped ties to match. She suspected the colors indicated their school houses, not unlike the three houses of Beauxbatons. She’d belonged to  _ Ombre Lune _ before- well before everything.

The oldest Targaryen stepped up to a large golden podium with a top in the shape of a dragon in mid-flight. He reached a pale bony hand into the pocket of his velvet robe and withdrew his wand. It was a beautiful thing, deceptively delicate, carved from Valyrian blackwood in a spiraling pattern like two tails intertwined, with a handle carved like scales and a ruby embedded in the end. She knew from her family history books that it had a core of dragon heartstring and that her father had carried it’s sibling until it perished along with him in the fire. Dark sister. 

He raised the wand to his throat and pressed it lightly against his voice box.

“Welcome, welcome!” Aemon bellowed, his breath voice filling the entire hall with the amplification charm, “to another year at hogwarts!”

The silent students erupted into a cacophony of whoops and cheers. A few even standing to pump their fists in the air, which surprised Dany. Beauxbaton students were a proud lot but they would  _ never _ make such ostentatious displays of school pride outside of a quidditch stadium.

The cheering quieted as the headmaster chuckled, “Yes, yes, I’m excited as well. I have a feeling this year will be one I will not soon forget.” He continued, “As per tradition, the first year students will be joining us shortly to be sorted into the houses that will be their family for the duration of their time at hogwarts.”

Many of the students exchanged excited looks and murmurs. Dany noted the sections of empty seats at the close end of each table, where those new students would likely sit.

“But this year there will be a break from tradition,” her uncle suddenly announced.

The deafening silence returned as all attention returned to the headmaster. 

“We have another new student joining our institution, but not as a member of the first year class,” Aemon announced, shifting all attention to her.

He motioned for her to come forward. She raised her chin and stepped up beside him, hands neatly folded in front of her. The perfect picture of a  _ fille de beauxbâton.  _ She hated it, but knew it was the role she had to play for now. 

“My niece, Daenerys Targaryen has been studying at the Beauxbatons Academy for the past six years, and will be joining our 7th year class to finish her wizarding education here at Hogwarts.” 

The murmurs returned and swelled steadily.

“I expect you all,” he interrupted, a bit louder than necessary to overcome the chatter, “to welcome her and treat her with the same kindness and respect that you treat all your fellow students.” His tone was one of warning, and it seemed to do the trick, at least temporarily, as an uneasy silence returned.

“As it is her first year with us, she does not yet belong to a house” he explained, turning slightly to address Daenerys directly, but not removing the wand from his throat.

“And as she is not a first year student, this is an untraditional entrance.” She wondered where we headed with this, “So for an untraditional entrance, I offer you an untraditional choice: You are a bright young woman, capable of making her own decisions,” he explained, “so you may choose the house that you will join and be a part of for the duration of your education here at Hogwarts.”

The chatter resumed but he spoke again too quickly for it to get out of hand.

“Each house is built around a set of core values, I recommend you choose the house that best aligns with yours.”

She looked around at the faces of her fellow students. Their expressions ranged from shock to thinly concealed rage. Why was he doing this? She’d read in Hogwarts a History that each student was sorted by an enchanted hat. She’d much rather be forced on a house by a talking garment than force herself on them. Now wherever she ended up they were sure to hate her.

“Ravenclaw values intelligence and wit.” He informed her, still enhancing his volume, “You were at the top of your class in beauxbatons, a favorite of many of your professors, perhaps they would suit you?”

He gestured to the table with settings of blue and silver where the students whispered amongst themselves. She wondered what they were saying. Nothing good, probably.

“Though there is no question of your cleverness and ambition,” he continued, “having worked your way to being the youngest quidditch captain Beauxbatons has ever seen in just your second year. You’d be in good company with Slytherin.”

She found that to be a strange example to select for those particular attributes, she’d done much more clever and ambitious things since then, but it did seem to earn her a few raised eyebrows and shrugs from the students in green and silver ties. It was a massive improvement, and she began to suspect her uncle was quite the clever man himself.

“Still, I can’t ignore the many tales of your bravery, not least of which running into a raging fire to save a friend from certain death. Gryffindor would value such strength.”

A bit of an exaggeration, but she was grateful anyway. She could see what he was doing, displaying her best qualities and achievements to the students so they would accept her into their houses a bit easier. She was grateful, she could tell she would need all the help he could offer to win any friends here.

“However, your kind heart must be taken into consideration, and your successful campaign to free all the house elves at the academy, is ample proof. You would make fast friends in Hufflepuff,”

One look at the students in yellow and black told her  _ that _ wasn’t likely the case tonight, as the majority still looked at her with terror in their eyes. However any eye contact from them at all was a marked improvement, so she considered it a work in progress.

Aemon suddenly turned back to the audience, “Perhaps there is a house that is seeking a bright young witch to join their ranks?”

Silence reclaimed the room. 

_ It was a valiant effort,  _ she thought to herself.

“Head boy and girls, please rise” Aemon said motioning upward with his free hand, and the closest two students of each house stood.

“Would any of you like to make a case for why Daenerys should join your house?”

The silence stretched on and Daenerys felt her stomach clench.

Suddenly the girl in the green and silver tie scoffed, looking at the other head students. She had dark, short cropped hair and sharp features.

“Cowards.” She spat at them, and turned to face Daenerys, “Slytherin isn’t afraid of rumours. Well behaved women seldom change history. And if you can help us win the quidditch match next week, even better. You have a seat at our table, If you so wish.” 

Many of the slytherins broke out in whoops and cheers for the young woman’s speech. Daenerys couldn’t help but be a bit impressed as well.

“Gryffindor would be honored to have you.” The young man in the red and gold tie suddenly spoke. He was handsome, with curly red hair and blue eyes, and there was something familiar about him. “If the stories the headmaster spoke are true, you’d be a welcome addition to our ranks. Any one who would risk themselves to save a friend belongs in Gryffindor,” he vowed, his house immediately cheering him on. He quickly threw a look at the dark haired girl, who rolled her eyes. Dany realized he was more interested in one-upping the Slytherins than anything she had to offer. 

“Thank you Asha and Robb,” Aemon said kindly, “Anyone else?”

Her eyes fell on the table of students with ties of blue and silver. The two head students seemed to be in a non-verbal argument of some sort. The girl, who had curly, dark, shoulder length hair and brown eyes, was clearly not having whatever the blond boy across from her was suggesting. Finally he turned away from her to face Dany, showing he had brown eyes as well, and boyish features.

“Ravenclaw always has use for a sharp mind.” He said with a smile, “Our door is open to you.”

A short and diplomatic answer. She respected it, but from the sigh and shake of the other girls head, she could tell not everyone isn’t the house agreed.

She looked over to the final table with banners of yellow and black and found the same boy who had escorted her to Aemon’s office.

Sam made shaky eye contact with her and fidgeted as he spoke, clearly not a fan of public speaking.

“We'd be glad to have you too,” he said, his voice breaking on the last words, eliciting a chuckle from the crowd. He blushed deeply but continued, “Hufflepuff would, I mean.” He looked over to the girl who was standing on the other side of the table, who gave him a reassuring nod. She was pretty with slightly buck teeth, and a kind smile.

“Thank you Jojen and Samwell. Thank you to all our head students.” Aemon nodded and they all retook their seats. 

As the red headed Gryffindor boy sat, she caught a glimpse of the boy seated just behind him, and realized why the head student had looked so familiar. 

It was the dark haired boy from the train and the thestrals. He sat next to who she assumed was his brother. Their similarities were few, but they were glaring if you paid attention, which Daenerys always did. As he locked eyes with her again she felt that same strange sensation making her lose time.

She was surprised when he suddenly looked away, a strange look of frustration coming over his face as he squeezed his eyes shut and muttered something to himself. She was surprised how desperately she wished she could hear what he’d said.

She only snapped out of it as Aemon’s voice spoke softly in her ear, “The choice is now yours, Daenerys.”

Daenerys scanned each of the Head students and the tables of students behind them, but her gaze kept returning to the strange northern boy, who was now the only one in the room not looking at her, as even the strange slytherin head boy looked up to see who she would choose. She forced herself to focus and make a thoughtful choice. After all it could make all the difference in how the next year would play out.

Her eyes finally landed on the girl who had spoken first. The short haired Slytherin girl who had scoffed in the face of her fellow students' fear.

Dany was intrigued by her. She’d always heard the stereotypical slytherin was selfish and conniving, if not often cruel like the slytherin men in her family. But that didn't seem to be why this girl had spoken up. She had spoken in defiance, not bravery, as she got the sense this young woman feared very little. She’d spoken up not for Dany, but to point out how foolish it was to fear something you know nothing about. She was willing to give Dany the chance to prove herself for better or worse. It was a neutral sense of justice and Dany respected the hell out of it. It was certainly far better than the vicious assumptions or suffocating pity she'd received from just about everyone else.

She made up her mind and stepped off the platform, her footsteps echoing in the once again silent hall. She locked eyes with the girl who returned her gaze without fear, malice, or smugness. As she approached the girl stood to meet her. 

She stopped in front of her and the girl sized her up, staring her down with a raised eyebrow. Dany momentarily thought the girl regretted her endorsement, but then she suddenly thrust out an arm.

At first Dany was confused, it didn't appear to be a handshake, but then she understood.

She grabbed the girls extended forearm in the salute she knew stood for the unbreakable bond, which was performed with a similar motion.

The slytherin’s erupted in cheers, and the girl gave her a smirk before suddenly raising her other fist making them all fall silent.

She released Danys arm and nodded to the seat next to her.

As she sat at the table, she looked up and found the Slytherin boy meeting her gaze for the first time. He gave her a nod and Dany felt a strange emotion come over her at the tiny gesture. Was it belonging? She wasn’t sure. She certainly didn't trust it yet. 

She looked over the slytherin boy’s shoulder just in time to see the boy from the train look away.

No. She certainly didn't trust it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH. I hope you liked it. It was super fun to write but ALOT of work, deciding who would be whole for this massive intro to the staff and students of Hogwarts. I’ll be posting a who’s-who in the comments in case theres any confusion or you just want to keep it all straight.   
> As always, comment, like, and bookmark! It keeps me going :)


	7. It’s good to be back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeeere’s Jonny!  
> Ok, bad joke. But someone had to make it.  
> Enjoy!

Jon was lost in thought as they rode along the twisting mountain road to the school.

The Targaryen girl had thrown him for a loop.

He wasn’t sure why he'd allowed himself to approach her in the first place. He’d just seen her with the thestrals and couldn't help himself. Jon could count on one hand the people he knew who could also see the creatures. The first time he saw them was at the start of fifth year, after everything that had happened with Ygritte the year before… 

He remembered being shocked to find that the carriages were no longer horseless, but when he mentioned it to Robb and Theon, they thought he was taking the piss out of them. It was only once he asked Davos about it that he understood the reason the creatures had revealed themselves.

If the Targaryen girl could see them too, she’d known death, intimately, and it begged many questions considering the rumours that surrounded her. He couldn’t risk getting sucked into another person's dark secrets, he had plenty of them on his own. He knew he should’ve kept a solid distance between himself and the silver haired girl, but there was something about her that made it feel impossible to stay away. 

He’d never put much stock in Veela lore, but it certainly seemed to be proving true. It was like a magnetic force of curiosity and attraction, pulling him towards this girl each time he saw her. Even now, he’d hardly spoken to her and yet his thoughts were consumed by her. 

He shook the thoughts out of his head and resolved not to let her bewitch him any further. He remembered reading that not all men were susceptible to Veela magic and he resolved to be one of them. He couldn’t let some Veela magic lead him astray now. Not when he was so close to graduating, especially with the conditional position Professor Mormont had helped him secure with the Auror’s office. 

They pulled into the familiar courtyard and came to a halt. 

As soon as the door swung open, he practically launched himself out onto the familiar ground, feeling an immediate sense of relief the moment his feet touched the hallowed earth. There was something about this place. It hadn’t always- well, hadn’t _ever_ been the easiest place for him, but nowhere really was for a bastard kid, especially one with his issues. At least here he could blend in with the many other so-called freaks.

Robb quickly followed him out of the litter, hopping down and taking in the beloved scenery. He took a deep breath and grinned.

“It is good to be back!” He said, raising his arms wide in a gesture to their surroundings.

Jon smirked, “I’ll remind you of that statement when we start studying for the N.E.W.T.’s.”

Robb scowled, dropping his arms, “Don’t ruin the mood, brother.”

“S’alright,” Gendry said, coming up behind them to clap them both on the shoulder, “I’m sure we’ll get plenty of debauchery in before then.”

Their friend had found them on the train not long after they’d departed the station, much to Jon’s relief. The more diluted the Greyjoy energy was, the better. He was also Jon’s closest friend in Gryffindor outside of his brother. Gendry knew everything about him, even the parts he wished he didn’t have to, and he was always around when Jon needed him.

Arya came bouncing out of the carriage close behind Gendry. It was to be expected at this point, even if it made Jon wildly uncomfortable. His sister clearly fancied his friend, even if the boy was stubbornly oblivious. Jon had started to suspect he knew, but refused to acknowledge it either for his and Robb’s sake, or because of the large age difference. Three years didn’t seem like much on paper, but the difference between 14 and 17 was astronomical in practice. Arya was very mature for her age, but still his little sister, so he’d still have to kill Gendry if he got any ideas.

Suddenly a blur of grey fur came flying out of the luggage compartment of the carriage with an ear-splitting, “Mrraaoow!” And bolted away through the crowd of students.

“Nymeria!” His little sister shrieked and took off running after the get-away feline.

The cat dodged through multiple people’s legs causing a few to nearly trip before disappearing out of sight. Arya was hot on her tail but slowed just enough to shout, “I’ll catch up with you at the feast!” over her shoulder before taking off full speed after the cat. 

Robb shook his head, “That cat is a menace to society.”

Jon smirked, “Just the cat?”

Robb chuckled and Jon couldn’t help but smile himself, it was a good quip.

The moment was short lived though as Theon shouldered past him, nearly knocking him over as he made haste to chase after a group of Slytherin girls that he had absolutely zero chance with. He sighed in exasperation. Theon had no sense of personal space, let alone manners. Unless of course Lady Stark was in the room, then he seemed to transfigure himself into a different creature entirely. _Yes, mum. No thank you, Mum._ The thought made Jon nauseous.

The rest of the Stark pack had split off in their own directions. Bran had gone with his housemates when they boarded the carriages, and Jon spotted him walking by on his way to the great hall with the Ravenclaw Head boy, Jojen Reed. They were most likely discussing arithmancy theory or wizard chess, but you’d never know it from watching them chat animatedly as if it was as riveting as the quidditch World Cup. The two passed by without even noticing, clearly in their own world. 

Rickon was making the journey to the castle in the boats with the rest of the first years. Davos would certainly have his hands full with him. 

Sansa was god’s-know-where, having ditched them way back at king’s cross for her group of Ravenclaw friends. Frankly he was glad for the latter. Having her around was like having a miniature Catelyn constantly judging his every move or statement. It was suffocating.

“Shall we?” Robb asked, gesturing towards the large arched entrance that all the students were making their way towards.

Jon nodded and the three of them started to mozy their way over, in no rush as Robb constantly stopped to greet the other Gryffindor and his many friends from other houses. His brother was easily the most popular boy in their class, if not the whole school. He had an easy going way about him, but he genuinely cared for people, and people gravitated toward him. Jon wondered what it was like, to not have to fight for acceptance or respect. It wasn’t that he didn’t think he deserved it, he knew his brother worked hard for the position he held, but he sometimes resented the headstart he’d been given simply by his birth. 

They stopped briefly as Robb greeted some third years that worshipped the ground he walked on, and Jon found himself scanning the crowd around them, seeking out a head of silver hair. 

He kicked himself internally. _Stop it, Jon._

As they entered, the hall was abuzz with talking and laughter, friends greeting each other or catching up after a long 3 months apart. 

Jon spotted Sansa at the ravenclaw table, gossiping with her friend Jeyne and making eyes across the room at someone the slytherin table. Jon followed her line of sight and confirmed his suspicions. Joffrey Baratheon leered back at the eldest stark girl with a predatory grin. Jon bristled. Sansa may have been horrible to him their entire childhoods, but Joffrey was just plain _horrible_. He was the type of kid that gave Slytherin their bad reputation. He didn’t trust him around his sister, no matter how difficult she could be.

He looked over to the hufflepuff table to find Sam, but he couldn’t find his friends large frame. He spotted Gilly who waved excitedly when she saw him, and he waved back. It was odd, his best friend was usually eager to greet him after the summer holiday. He wondered if he got roped into helping the headmaster with something, as he so often did.

They reached the far end of the Gryffindor table and Robb took his coveted seat as head boy. Ros was already occupying the opposite seat and she gave him a flirtatious smile as he joined her. The voluptuous redhead leaned in conspiratorially. 

“How does it feel to take your rightful post, my lord?” She teased with an affected posh accent.

Robb raised an eyebrow. 

“Like it’s about bloody time, my lady,” he returned with a matching lilt.

She giggled while Jon took his seat beside his brother. Gendry followed suit and Ros quickly shifted her attention to the new quarry.

“Hello there boys,” she said with a suggestive drawl.

Jon gave her a nod in greeting while Gendry just blushed and suddenly seemed to find the table setting very interesting, which made Jon smirk in amusement.

“My, my, the summer certainly treated you well, Snow,” Ros said with a leering once over of Jon from head to, ahem, toe.

Now it was Jon’s turn to blush and inspect the cutlery.

Robb chuckled and she raised her eyebrows at his reaction.

“You won’t be laughing so hard when all the ladies shift their attentions to the broodier Stark,” she prodded him.

She was clearly teasing, but his brother’s smirk still wavered slightly.

Jon sighed and retorted, “I’m not a Stark.”

Ros shrugged. 

“Close enough,” She answered with a sly grin.

Just then two more of the seventh year Gryffindor girls walked up to take the seats on Ros’s left hand side. The one to her immediate left, Val Rayder, was the pretty blonde niece of the Runes Professor Mance Rayder. Jon had engaged in a brief, grief-fueled fling with her after Ygritte’s death. The girls had been best friends, and no one else seemed to understand what he was going through at the time. However, it quickly fizzled as the sharpness of the loss began to dull and they realized they had little in common. They were now fairly good friends though, having bonded over the shared loss, as well as their competitive enjoyment of quidditch.

She gave him a smile and nod as she settled in and he returned it, always glad to see another face that didn’t look at him with wariness or disdain.

The girl next to her was Alys Karstark, another northerner, with sharp features and long brown hair that she usually wore in a single braid slung over her shoulder. She was actually their distant cousin on his father’s side, but that wasn’t all that surprising as most northern families had interconnected at some point if they’d been around long enough to have an ancestral home. She was a kind, studious girl who didn’t speak often, but when she did, showed great wisdom and intelligence. Jon often wondered why she hadn’t been sorted into ravenclaw, but he knew it was as much about your values as it was your attributes.

She gave him a brief, small smile in greeting and he returned it in kind. 

“Hello ladies,” he heard Theon’s familiar grating tone call from over his right shoulder. He felt Gendry accidentally lean into him as Theon squeezed his way into the non-existent seat on his other side. Ros winked flirtatiously at Greyjoy while Val rolled her eyes and Alys shifted uncomfortably in her seat. 

“Did you miss me?” He teased the girls with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Val fixed him with the most aggressively indifferent stare and deadpanned, “Immeasurably.”

Jon suppressed a chuckle, but Theon hardly seemed to recognize the sarcasm, or flat out ignored it, throwing back, “Well don’t fret, love, I’m here now,” eliciting another eyeroll.

Val sighed, “I’m gonna go sit with Wynafryd,” putting both hands on the table and dramatically pushing herself up to stand. She swung one leg than the other over the bench and walked off toward the other side of the table.

Theon just shrugged and shifted his attention back to Ros.

Jon shook his head, feeling sympathy for Val, but also feeling a bit validated in his similarly low tolerance for Greyjoy. He looked back at the entrance briefly, to see the last few students trickling in, and finally caught sight of Sam.

His rotund friend waved happily to him as he entered but quickly stopped, dropping his gaze to the floor as he shuffled by the castle caretaker, who was posted to the left of the door. The students liked to call him ‘the hound’ because of his grizzled appearance and dogged pursuit of rule-breakers. Sam was terrified of him, as were most of the students, though Arya seemed to enjoy challenging him at every opportunity. The rough man always indulged her though, and Jon suspected he actually had a soft spot for her.

Once he was a ‘safe’ distance away Sam returned to his usual jolly self and smiled as he trotted over. Jon swung his legs over the bench to stand and greet him as he neared.

“I was beginning to think you’d fallen into the black lake!” He teased as his friend approached.

“I’m a better swimmer than I look,” he returned easily, and Jon laughed heartily, having missed his friends quick wit

He greeted him with a hug and a clap on his shoulder as he pulled way.

“It’s good to see you, Sam,” Jon said with a warm smile.

“And you.” Sam returned with a slightly shy, but pleased grin.

“Where were you? Off running errands for Aemon before the school years even begun?”

“Something like that,” His friend answered, dropping his gaze to his feet. 

He always did so when he was hiding something, it was his one tell in Wizard’s chess that allowed Jon to almost keep up when they played.

His friend quickly changed the subject and animatedly asked, “How’s the wand been working out?”

Jon immediately grinned widely, happy to shift gears to that particular subject. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the wand in question.

Longclaw. House Mormont’s ancestral wand. He’d been gifted it at the end of fifth year when he’d had saved Professor Mormont’s life from a lethifold. Jon was lucky that he’d gone to the Head teacher’s office to speak to him about the internship, when he’d heard a commotion inside. He’d broken in just in time to find the hooded creature sucking the breath out of the professors lungs. He mistook it for a dementor and used the patronus charm, but thankfully it was effective on the similar beast. 

He twirled it in his fingers once, stopping it by the front end and handing it to Sam, who grabbed it delicately. He looked it over reverently.

It was truly a work of art. Carved from blackthorn with an unusual triangular shaft, a spiral handle, and figurehead of a wolf with red rubies for eyes. It had once been a bear, but the professor had personally taken it to Ollivander’s to have it re-carved. It was Jon’s most prized possession.

”I still can’t believe he gave it to you,” his Hufflepuff friend said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Neither can I,” Jon chuckled. 

The wand was supposed to go to Mormont’s own son. In fact, it had, when Jeor had retired from being and Auror, he passed it on to him, but the man was caught selling the ‘non-humans’ he detained for the ministry on the black market, and was sent to Azkaban, so the wand was returned to the now professor.

“Does it respond to you?” Sam asked, still inspecting the instrument.

Jon nodded, “took a bit of getting used to, but now it’s loads better than my old one.”

“Well you've always been Mormont’s favorite so I suppose it makes sense,”

Jon scoffed, “He hated me for all of first year!”

”Well you were a bit of a killjoy,” his friend teased with a grin.

Jon chuckled and nodded, “Some things never change,”

Jon saw the teachers starting to file into the hall over Sam’s shoulder, a sign that the banquet would start soon.

”Professor’s are here, better get seated.” he said, Sam handing him back the wand which he slipped back into his pocket. “I’ll find you at breakfast?”

Sam nodded, “Sounds good.” 

Jon extended a hand which Sam grasped the way one would for and arm wrestle, and Jon pulled him into a one armed hug, their customary farewell.

When they pulled away Jon told him, “Say hi to Gilly for me,” which made Sam blush and nod as he headed back to his seat.

Jon turned and stepped back over the bench between Robb and Gendry.

“Greeting your girlfriend after so long away, Snow?” Theon teased in a sing song voice.

Jon shrugged, “You wouldn’t know what that’s like would you?”

Theon’s face dropped and Jon focused his attention elsewhere before he could retort.

“What’s your schedule this year, ros?” He asked the redhead across from them.

She opened her mouth to answer, but she suddenly stopped, her face falling, and silence falling over the room with it. 

Something in the back of the hall had grabbed her attention, along with seemingly everyone else’s, and he whipped around to see what it was.

He shouldn't have been surprised.

Entering the now completely filled hall on the Headmaster’s right arm, with silver hair and purple eyes shining in the glow of the braziers, was Daenerys Targaryen. 

“Seven hells,” he heard Robb whisper, the astonishment evident in his voice. If Jon had turned to see the look on his brother's face, or almost any other young man in the room for that matter, he would’ve seen her effect in action, but he was too busy staring along with them.

She seemed to scan the room, but didn't find his gaze, quickly focusing her attention forward and away from the silent stares of the student body. He found himself disappointed and quickly scolded himself. _Don’t let her get in your head, Jon._

She’d changed into school robes, and Jon couldn’t help but think they suited her. Some front strands of her hair were braided back, away from her face, but the rest cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. She was painfully beautiful to behold.

Aemon walked so slowly at his advanced age that their approach and the resulting silence seemed to stretch on endlessly. Daenerys appeared to scan the head table and take in the professors, but her face gave away little.

She drew ever closer and Jon fought to control his accelerating heartbeat. _You don’t even know her._ It was to no avail.

She passed by so closely that he could’ve easily reached out and touched her, which he found himself having to make a conscious effort _not_ to do. She left a light cloud of the same perfume he’d smelled when he’d run into her on the train, like fresh lavender and citrus. The scent making him dizzy.

_You’ve got to snap out of this._

He forced his attention to the rest of the room, and took in the expressions of his classmates. To be expected, most were a mix of shock and horror, but there was one expression that seemed to dominate the male population: lust.

He turned and saw the same expression on his own brothers face.

He felt a twinge of jealousy that she was no longer a secret known only to him, but he quickly reasoned with himself about it.

 _At least I’m not the only pathetic man._ He thought to himself, though it didn't make him feel better. 

He returned his gaze to her as she finally reached the head table with her Uncle and helped him up the few steps. The small act of kindness was enough to play with his resolve and he nearly groaned in exasperation. 

She clearly wasn’t going to make this easy...

...  
  


Slytherin.

 _Slytherin_?

Why would she choose Slytherin??

Slytherins didn’t help old men up stairs, or pet thestrals like house cats, or cry about their troubles in the girls lavatory. Did they? His head was swimming.

He hated feeling like he was such a poor judge of character that she’d won his sympathies with a few tears and a moment with a horse, but all the warning signs were there. She had to go and pick the one house that would make everyone think that the rumours had to be true. Surely some of them were. After all, even the rumours about him had some truth to them, but he was really hoping that she’d prove him wrong. 

When she was making her choice, she’d locked eyes with him and he’d forced himself to look away, but now he had a strange itching regret that maybe if he’d held her gaze she would have chosen differently. 

Now he couldn’t help but watch as she held Asha’s forearm and the Slytherin’s cheered for their newest acquisition. Greyjoy silenced her house with a raise of her fist, and gestured for her newest recruit to sit. Daenerys had hardly settled into her seat when she looked up and immediately found his gaze. He panicked and forced himself to look away, kicking himself for getting caught. 

This should’ve been a good thing. It should’ve made things simple, made it easier for him to stay away.

But things seldom go as they _should_.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, i know, i know, this one was a little bit shorter, but that’s because it morphed into two chapters. You’ll see why on thee next one, which i hope to post super duper soon!
> 
> P.s.  
> I love writing the sweet Stark interactions but UGH even I am getting anxious for some Jon & Dany 1 on 1! I can’t wait to start writing them actually interacting instead of these massive internal dialogues, buuuut they really are helping to set up the story, I digress.  
> So never fear, we’re getting closer to actual conversations! I promise!  
> Next update is Dany's first night in the castle... See you soon! (Hopefully very soon *wink wink*)
> 
> Comments, bookmarks, & kudos prevent writers block! ;)


	8. Time to Dig In

Daenerys began to tire as the sorting ceremony dragged on.

The once large group of 11 year olds had dwindled down to only 4, as the rest had already been assigned their houses and were now seated with their fellow students at their designated tables.

“Lyanna Mormont!” Davos called out from his place next to the wooden stool where the enchanted hat rested.

A small girl with brown hair and brown eyes stepped up to the platform. She had the stony expression of someone five times her age, and showed little interest in the process she was taking part in.

Davos hadn’t even let go of the hat on her head when it shouted, “Gryffindor!” 

The girl flashed a satisfied close-lipped smile, clearly having gotten what she was hoping for, before returning her face to neutral as she walked to her new tables house with no perceptible hurry. The Gryffindor students cheered and Daenerys couldn’t help but seek out the reaction of a certain dark-haired boy.

He was clapping along at a casual pace with a crooked smile wrinkling his handsome face. It was the brightest expression she’d seen on him yet, and it somehow made him even prettier, which she found highly annoying. She forced her attention back to the front of the room.

She noticed the large professor with the bushy white beard clapping especially loudly, with a proud grin on his face. 

She clapped along with the rest of the room obligatorily, but her hands were beginning to hurt after 38 rounds of applause. She was grateful there were only two left.

Davos briefly looked back at his list before calling out, “Tommen Baratheon!” 

Daenerys recognized the name and her eyebrows shot up of their own accord. She knew from gossip that Cersei’s sons attended Hogwarts at her husband’s insistence, but she’d forbidden her only daughter Myrcella to go anywhere but the academy. The girl was the apple of her eye, her protégée, and her spitting image. Everything Daenerys could never live up to.

A handsome young boy with familiar blonde hair and green eyes excitedly hopped up onto the platform. Davos lifted the hat and the boy eagerly took his seat. The groundskeeper placed the hat onto his head and she heard the garment mumbling to the boy. She couldn’t hear what it said, but the boy had squeezed his eyes shut, seemingly whispering something over and over. He stopped as the hat asked him something that sounded like: _are you sure?_ The boy paused.

Before he could answer the hat loudly called, “Hufflepuff!”

The Baratheon boy seemed a little unconvinced by the choice, but his smile quickly returned as the students in black and yellow erupted into joyous applause. He hopped off the stool, and quickly headed over to greet his new housemates. 

That left one last student to be sorted. A boy with a mop of curly auburn hair and grey-blue eyes.

He seemed familiar but Dany couldn’t place it yet.

“Rickon Stark!” Davos announced, and nearly half the Gryffindor table exploded into cheers and applause.

The head boy of the gold and red house stood to clap and whoop for the kid, and she realized why the boy had looked so familiar.

“Alright alright, let’s actually sort him before you lot get too excited” Davos teased, motioning for the students to quiet down. 

The head boy sat back down and Dany noticed the girls at the Gryffindor table, and even many at the others, were giggling and blushing at his enthusiastic outburst. He was clearly popular with the female students, and she could admit he was handsome, but he didn’t grab her attention.

Davos lifted the hat and the kid wasted no time taking the two short steps in one bound to hop onto the stool. The older man raised the garment and hovered it over the boy's head for a few extra seconds to build the suspense.

“C’mon!” Robb called out, eliciting a chuckle from the older man. 

He finally placed it on his head. No sooner had it touched his curls did it shout, “Gryffindor!” Eliciting a massive cheer and applause from the entire red and gold table. 

The head boy launched out of his seat once again, but this time he was joined by nearly half of his house. The boy from the train drew her eye once again as he stood along with his brother… or cousin? She wasn’t sure.

Either way, she was surprised to find that the sullen young man she’d encountered had seemingly vanished, as he proudly clapped and cheered for the younger boy. He was actually smiling, with white teeth shining and everything. Dany couldn’t help but think it was a beautiful sight.

The curly-haired boy jogged over to join his family. His look-alike older brother wrapped him up in a big hug, lifting him up and hoisting him in the air, eliciting another great cheer from the house. The young boy laughed happily and his brother reluctantly put him down. As he pulled away he clapped the younger boy on his back and nodded for him to take a seat next to him. 

The boy looked up at his darker haired relative who leaned over with an outstretched fist and a proud grin. The boy beamed back and tapped the fist with his own. The moment was so sweet that Dany almost didn't feel the sting of envy and grief that it created within her. Almost.

A few other Gryffindors reached over to ruffle the kids hair or give a pat on the shoulder as they all began to retake their seats.

Aemon stood from his throne-like chair and placed his wand to his throat as he’d done before.

“Congratulations to all first year students, I hope you find your new houses welcoming and well-suited! Now, I have just a few announcements before we start the meal. All first years must…”

Dany couldn’t help but find herself tuning out as her eyes wandered once more to the raven-haired young man at the adjacent table. 

There was something about him. Something she couldn’t quite figure out.

Most men were either sensitive or insensitive to her Veela blood, and she could suss out which almost immediately, but not with this gryffindor boy.

How they had locked eyes when they first met, but he now refused to hold her gaze. How he had looked away while she was making her house choice, but then she caught him staring afterward. The way he was clearly acting like she didn’t exist now, but had approached her before with the thestrals. He was a contradiction.

It seemed like he was drawn to her, but was actively fighting against it. She didn’t know if that was even possible, she’d never met anyone self-aware of her effect while in the moment, yet that was how it seemed. He intrigued her, and she was having equally as hard a time with keeping her eyes off him as he appeared to be with her. It didn’t help that he was easy to look at.

She shouldn’t be thinking like this, she needed to stay focused. She couldn’t let a pretty boy distract her now matter how interesting he seemed. She had to keep her head down, and make it through the year without any trouble. 

It would be much easier if she didn’t seek out trouble like a moth to a flame. 

The headmaster had finished his announcements and happily called out, “Let the feast commence!” 

  
  


Dany had always been of the very French belief that their cuisine was far superior to the English, but that belief was being challenged by the spread in front of her. 

A pile of glistening lamb chops, a tureen of Shepherd’s pie, and a massive tray of fish and chips sat in front of her, with many other assorted delicacies lining the length of the table. The smell was divine, and she felt her stomach rumble from her lack of sustenance on the train ride over.

The other students tucked in eagerly, filling their plates so quickly that Dany had to start lest she be left with nothing. 

She served herself a heaping scoop of the Shepherd’s pie, and just in time too, because as soon as she replaced the serving spoon, hands reached out to snatch it away and pass it down the table. It was quickly replaced by some kind of meat pie with a golden crust and juices bubbling up from small slits in the center.

“Steak and kidney pie,” Asha told her with a nudge of her elbow.

She gave her a brief, grateful smile, and served herself a small slice, hoping that it wasn’t too different from French rognonnade. She quickly grabbed the tongs on the fish and chips plate to grab some before it got passed as well.

“Don’t worry, everything comes around again, not that you’d know it by the way this lot acts like they’ve been starved for weeks,” Asha added with a nod towards her housemates. 

Daenerys noticed the head boy with the shaved head across the table remained quiet as he filled his plate, despite the students chattering around him. She was tempted to find out more about him, but he almost seemed content in his solitary silence, and her position she couldn't afford to risk a poor first impression on something as frivolous as curiosity, so she kept her questions to herself.

More plates came and went. Yorkshire pudding, bangers and mash, Cornish pasties, black pudding, every traditional English dish she’d ever heard of went by on a silver platter.

The passing finally started to slow and Dany looked down at her now over-full plate. There was no way she was going to be able to finish it, but she started in just the same.

The first bite was heaven, and the next was just as good. Soon she’d finished nearly half her plate without even pausing to take a drink. She looked at her goblet and withdrew her wand from the pocket of her robe. She tapped it to the side of the cup and it began to fill with water.

“Impressive,” she heard Asha say beside her in her rather thick Scottish accent.

Dany turned in surprise at the praise. 

“ _Aguamenti_?” She asked in confusion.

The short-haired girl chuckled, “Nonverbal magic. We started practicing it last year, but few students can do it consistently, let alone casually.”

Dany couldn’t help but preen a little at the praise. She rarely got noticed for anything other than her looks or poor reputation these days.

“Oh, thank you...” she told her genuinely, if a little awkwardly.

Asha nodded and continued eating.

Daenerys noticed that the girl didn’t make much small talk, but did occasionally chime in with the students around her to offer advice or a witty quip. She had a razor-sharp sense of humor, and was clearly very well-liked and respected, but Daenerys could sense that she was also not someone to mess with. She wondered if that was why none of the surrounding students had made an audible comment on her joining the house. She figured at least some of them were less than pleased, but aside from a few sideways glances, none of them were expressing it. Yet.

She wondered why Asha would risk creating discord among the ranks, just to bring her in.

Dany’s curiosity got the better of her.

“Why did you speak first?” She suddenly blurted out. “I mean, why take that risk? You don’t know me, you don’t owe me anything.”

Asha looked a bit taken aback by the sudden questions, but just chuckled good naturedly. 

“Well someone’s got trust issues,” she laughed.

Dany opened her mouth to rebut but Asha stopped her by quickly saying, “You’ll fit in well here, Slytherin is the house of trust issues.”

Daenerys huffed something akin to a laugh, and Asha continued.

“Honestly? It wasn’t entirely unselfish. We’ve been desperate for a new seeker. Our current one, Joffrey, is a real robber,” she said with a sneer. “But I was also intrigued by you. I’ve heard many things about you, each one worst than the next.” She said with an amused grin, taking a sip of her drink.

“That’s why I’m surprised you spoke up,” Dany pressed, wanting an answer.

Asha sighed and put down her goblet.

“Look, In this world, if you’re a woman doing anything of note, they say you’re a monster, a bitch, or crazy. I’ve been called all three in the past hour. I form my own opinions.”

Daenerys couldn’t help but blink in surprise. She’d said it in such a matter of fact way, that Dany suspected she’d discussed this subject before, possibly many times, about many different women. She Was starting to respect the hell out of this girl.

Dany nodded thoughtfully for a moment before grabbing her goblet and raising it in the air in front of her.

“To forming our own opinions,” she said in a toast.

Asha grinned and grabbed her own, lifting it up beside Dany’s.

“Here, here,” She said, and clinked the vessels together.

They each brought their glasses to their lips and took a sip of their beverages. 

Dany felt that hopeful feeling growing inside of her again. She wasn’t sure if she could yet call Asha a friend, but just she might be becoming something even more important:

An ally.

  
  


After a couple hours, the feast was winding down. Having finished their meals, and weary from a long, eventful day, the students started to dismiss themselves for bed. 

With an extremely full stomach, Daenerys could feel herself getting drowsy as well, so when Asha announced that she and the other head boy, who’s name she learned was Grey, would be showing the first years to the Slytherin common room and dormitories, she swallowed her pride and followed.

They were led out of the great hall through the large doors and into the entry hall, which connected to the courtyard they had entered from, but instead of exiting through the archway, they turned left and headed toward a large arched door in the far corner. 

As she followed behind the group, Daenerys could see the door’s elaborate decoration of what she’d assumed were intertwining vines, was actually a complex design of snakes. Asha pulled out her wand and flicked it at the door, three of the snakes slithering away from where they’d been extending off the door, a few inches onto the wall. There was an echoing sound of unlatching, and the door slowly swung open, revealing the start of a stone staircase descending in a curved path. The head students stepped into the stairwell, quickly disappearing around the bend, the first year students steadily trailing behind them. She followed them a small distance behind, feeling a substantial drop in temperature as she stepped into the stairwell. It had a slight scent of wet earth, and she suspected it ran quite deep.

Her suspicions were confirmed as they continued down several stories. They had to be at least at lake level, if not deeper.

She reached the bottom of the stairs, finding herself in a long, curved hallway that disappeared out of sight in either direction. Torches were mounted on the wall every few meters, giving the hallway a flickering glow. The slytherin students had assembled not far down the corridor to her left, and she walked over to join them. 

They were surrounding Asha and Grey, who were standing with their backs to the wall, facing the group of first years who had gathered in a semi-circle around them. Asha scanned the group, her eyes landing on Dany. She gave her an almost imperceptible smile before speaking, and Daenerys suspected she’d been waiting for her.

“This is the entrance to the Slytherin Dungeon.” She told the group, “Much like the entrance to platform 9¾, it is imperceptible to those who do not know it is there. However, unlike the platform, you must have a password to be granted access.”

Asha turned to face the wall and whispered, “ _Gillyweed_ ,” just loud enough for everyone to hear in the echoing hallway.

Suddenly a section of the wall in front of her faded and vanished, revealing a small dark corridor. She turned back to face the students.

“You will not share this password with students from other houses. If you do not head that rule, you will be referred directly to the head of house to face punishment, and you will get no sympathy from me. So be smart, and keep it to yourselves.” She stared down the 11 year olds for a moment to convey her seriousness, before turning her back and disappearing into the darkness.

Grey followed suit, but the young students hesitated for a moment before hurrying after them.

Once the last kid was into the corridor, Dany followed suit. 

As soon as she stepped into the small, dark space she could see a bright light shining over the heads of the students in front of her, from what she assumed was their destination. She continued for a few meters until she reached the end of the narrow passageway and stepped into the light, suddenly shocked at her surroundings.

They were standing inside something akin to a subterranean temple. Large elaborate arches were carved into the natural marble, the stone marked with water damage that dripped from small cracks in an eerily beautiful pattern. Dark moss and vines also from the cracks, and framed the large glass windows fitted into each arch. Dany was surprised that there would be windows so far below ground and wondered what could possibly be beyond them other than water or stone. 

The room was well furnished with black leather couches and chairs, and accents of green velvet. Several large chandeliers hung from the especially high ceiling, and fires burned in multiple grand fireplaces making it surprisingly warm.

Asha and Grey had split off from each other, with the girls gathering to one side and the boys on the other.

As Dany approached the girls, she could see that the head student was standing in front of another narrow stone staircase, this one ascending up into the stone wall.

“The dorms sleep five to a room,” Asha told the young girls, “So you might as well get used to each other, because you’ll be living together for the next 7 years,”

A few of the students started to whisper to each other until Asha cleared her throat and they fell silent once more. 

“If you have a conflict you may come to me for advice, however, do not do so until you've attempted to work it out amongst yourselves. If you come to me with a petty squabble I will not be inclined to help you when a real issue arises, understood?” Asha warned them.

The girls nodded and murmured their assent.

”Boys are not allowed in the girls dormitory at any time, nor are you allowed in the boys’.”

There were a few sounds of disappointment as Asha continued.

”Curfew is 10pm, so do not let me catch you breaking it, and do not presume to think you can sneak out without me knowing about it,” she told the girls who were now thoroughly drained of excitement.

“Don’t worry, we’re actually the fun house,” Asha said with a sly smile, and she leaned in to whisper “We just don’t want the other houses to know it, so play by the rules until you’re old enough and smart enough to break them.” 

The girls giggled as the tension broke and Asha nodded back before turning to the staircase and calling out, “Follow me.”

Dany followed behind the group as she had been, wondering where exactly she was going to sleep, and how her bags would get there. She hoped her uncle had already sorted that out, but she knew he was a busy man and Drogon wouldn’t take too kindly to being caged this long.

They wound up the staircase a flight or two before reaching a landing with a door on either side. Asha opened the door on the left and motioned for the girls to enter. Dany stayed in the doorway but peered into the room.

It was spacious but cozy, with two beds and a fireplace on one side and three beds on the other. The girls quickly ran to discover which bed was theirs, as their belongings were already piled at the end.

“Goodnight lassies,” Asha said with a shake of her head, “Please wait for the morning to go exploring. I’d hate to recommend expulsion for any of you.”

Dany stepped out of her way as she stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her.

“Now then,” she said with a sly smirk, “Let’s show you where you’ll be stuck for the next 8 months.”

The slytherin girl nodded toward the next set of stairs at the end of the landing before heading towards them, Daenerys close behind.

They wound up to a second landing, then a third, and finally a fourth, which had only one grand door at the end, instead of two on either side. It was decorated similarly to the one in the entry hall, in an intricate pattern of snakes.

Asha approached it first and pulled out her wand to swish it at the door. The snakes recoiled to unlatch it and Daenerys smiled.

“Impressive,” she said, returning the earlier praise.

Asha smirked, “Why thank you.”

The door swung open and the head girl motioned politely for her to enter first.

Dany could hear voices speaking inside, and for a moment she hesitated. That familiar fear of rejection bubbling up. 

Be a dragon.

She swallowed it down and stepped into the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I didn’t post this *quite* as soon as i was hoping, but alas, I couldn’t stop editing it. There’s actually even more to it that I’m go into have to post as the next chapter because I’m not quite happy with it yet. But that means lots of updates to come next week! Yayyyyyyyyyyy
> 
> As always, kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated!  
> Until next time my lovelies...


	9. The Snake Pit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m alive! And so sorry for yet another delay. Here’s a bit of content to hold you over til the next update ♥️

The room was similar in some ways to the first year dorm, but taken to an entirely different level. 

An iron chandelier with three levels of lit candles hung from the center of a high, vaulted ceiling. The stone walls on either side were lined with four-poster beds, but much more spread out than in the previous room, with only three beds set perpendicularly on each side. Each one was draped with green velvet curtains with silver fringe, and accompanied by a large dark stained wardrobe, a bedside dresser, and a large trunk at the foot of each bed.

In the center of the far wall was a grand, carved marble fireplace with two large, comfy-looking leather armchairs in front, set on a large ornate rug with twisting designs of snakes in green, black, and silver thread between them. The mantle was framed on either side by massive arched windows, much like the ones in the common room, but unlike before, Dany could now see what was beyond them. 

Waves lapped against the glass a few feet below the top of the frame. Froth and bubbles slid down from where the crest of each wave hit, only to be washed away by the next one and replaced with more bubbles. All of this was only visible because of the bright moonlight, which cut through the water like sunlight through clouds, illuminating the surface and reaching its tendrils down only to be lost in the depths. It was lovely in an almost supernatural way, and Dany couldn't help but continue to be impressed by the seemingly endless unusual beauty that this castle contained.

But the surroundings weren’t what piqued Dany’s interest.

At the far end of the chamber sat three girls who she assumed must be the chamber’s other residents. 

On the furthest bed of the right side, lounged a strikingly pretty girl with soft features, fair skin, and long golden hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. She wore a luxurious blue silk dressing robe with long, french lace sleeves, and was hunched over as she expertly painted her toenails.

On the far side of that bed, unpacking her things into one of the armoires, stood a girl with lightly olive skin and straight black hair braided down her back. When she turned, Dany could see that she was also beautiful, with strong features, and an elegant way about her. She paused between folding jumpers to whisper something conspiratorially to the girl on the bed, who laughed in a sing-song way that was as pretty as she was. This outburst drew the attention of the final resident, who Dany had almost not spotted, laying sideways in the closer of the two armchairs by the fire. As she sat up, Dany could see that she had darker skin, brown hair, and plain features which were warped into a scowl. She had an athletic build like a rugby player, and Daenerys had a feeling she could take down just about anyone in a fight. The girl snapped the book she was reading closed with a huff and a glare toward the other two girls.

“You two make it impossible to accomplish anything,” she snarled at them

The girl with the braid rolled her eyes and went back to putting away her things.

“Like you even need to be studying when classes haven't started,” the girl with the braid said exasperatedly. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you flunk your NEWT’s and get rejected by the auror’s office” the girl bit back, dropping her book on the floor beside her chair with a dramatic thud.

As she slowly entered further into the room Dany tripped slightly on a fringed rug. The three young women all looked up at once, their eyes immediately falling to their newest dorm mate.

The one in the armchair was scowling at her as if she was the one who had interrupted her reading while the dark-hair girl raised an inquisitive eyebrow and tilted her head curiously. The blonde had broken into a grin that was downright wolfish.

The three girls suddenly moved toward her in synchronization, without even looking at each other as if they shared a single brain.

As they approached in perfect formation, Daenerys felt not unlike a gazelle being circled by jungle cats. 

But she was not a gazelle. She was a dragon.

The girl with the long dark braid approached first, looking Daenerys up and down before turning to Asha who had joined at her side.

“I was beginning to think you ran off with our new recruit,” the girl teased with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows.

Asha smiled mischievously, “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” 

The young woman grinned, but quickly returned her attention to the newcomer.

“Are you going to introduce us?” The blonde now taunted Asha while keeping her eyes on Dany.

“Daenerys, these are the Sand sisters. Tyene,” Asha explained, gesturing toward the blonde first, “Nymeria,” she pointed to the girl with the long braid, “and Obara,” she indicated the last girl with the larger frame.

Dany was surprised to hear that they were sisters. They looked nothing alike, and she normally had an eye for such things, though she had to admit there was a certain similarity in their calculating gazes.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Dany offered diplomatically. A neutral greeting to test the waters.

“Is it?” Obara challenged, crossing her arms, “Wish I could say the same.”

“Play nice,” Asha warned with a smirk.

“This is me playing nice,” the muscular young woman bit back. She stared daggers at her and Dany began to suspect this girl was the alpha of the three. 

Daenerys had always excelled with creature studies because she understood animal behavior. Now she had walked right into a snake pit. If she showed any weakness she’d get eaten alive. 

“Forgive my sister’s lack of tact,” the blonde interjected, her tone too sickly sweet to be one hundred percent genuine, “we’ve just heard a lot about you.”

“The infamous Daenerys Targaryen,” Nymeria drawled with a slight grin, starting to pace in a circle around her, “The Mad King’s Daughter, accused of murdering her own brother in cold blood.”

They were testing her limits. Seeing where her weaknesses lay. She wouldn’t give them anything.

“And acquitted,” she said easily, like she’d asked what the charms homework was.

The girl circled back around in front of her and gave her a tight smile, “Lucky you.” 

Obara crossed her arms in front of her. “I just wonder how many innocent people are sitting in Azkaban because they couldn’t win over a jury by batting their eyelashes,” she leveled at her in a condescending tone.

“Probably as many as there are veela who were convicted for the actions of men with free will,” she said matter-of-factly.

The brown-haired girl’s eyes narrowed with a  _ hmph _ , “Fair enough.”

Tyene stepped forward slightly to speak in a sweet but heavily condescending tone, “Though you have to admit, it looks bad. You were found standing over your own brother in your own dorm room with your boyfriend who was found dead just a month later? I mean all things being equal...”

Dany smiled ever so briefly.

“All due respect to Occam, but in my life I’ve found the simplest explanation has rarely been the right one,” she said flatly, holding the girl’s blue-eyed gaze.

“Well then,” she said innocently, gesturing onward with her arms, “What’s the right one?”

Dany hesitated. She’d fallen into the trap of saying too much with Littlefinger. She wouldn’t do it again. However, she needed to give them something to earn her place here. She’d have to play it delicately.

Just as she opened her mouth to form a reply, she was interrupted by the bang of the chamber door flying open and smacking the wall.

Dany whipped around to locate the source of the commotion only to find that the sixth resident of the room had apparently arrived.

A pale girl with dark brown hair and a cold gaze came striding into the room like she owned it, quickly taking off her robe and tossing it on her bed to reveal her disheveled uniform. Even from where she stood a few meters away Dany could recognize the signs of good fucking. The girl's hair was tangled in places, her make-up smeared, not to mention the hickeys blossoming from under the collar of her shirt.

The girl didn’t seem to even notice her audience as she continued to disrobe, revealing her milky skin covered in marks. Angry red nail tracks ran the length of her back, some tinged red with broken skin. Teeth marks and bruises were peppered all over her midsection and breasts, but what made Dany’s stomach turn were the marks on her neck. What she had thought was a cluster of hickeys, now appeared to be a very particular pattern: that of a hand.

Dany suddenly felt herself sicken as bad memories washed over her, and that sickness turned to rage as her thoughts circled around who had hurt this girl.

“Enjoying the show?” The girl suddenly called, not even turning to look as she wrapped a black and green tartan robe around her naked form, tying it around her waist before pulling her hair up out of the collar with a flick.

Daenerys was lost for words for a moment but Asha chimed in.

“It’s nearly an hour past curfew,” the head girl said with an annoyed tone, seemingly unimpressed by the girl's injuries, “You’re going to lose us points before we even get any.”

“So write me up,” the girl threw back nonchalantly, finally turning to face the group and sauntering over, “it would still be well worth it for the fuck I just had.”

Dany’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily. Had she wanted someone to do that to her?

“Spare us the details,” Obara pleaded as she settled back into her seat by the fire and reopened her book as if she was suddenly bored by the conversation. Her sisters followed suit, leaving the circle to women to resume their activities from before.

The pale girl scoffed, “don’t be bitter just because you aren’t getting any.”

That seemed to strike a nerve with the brown haired girl as her nostrils flared despite her best efforts to act unperturbed.

Asha seemed displeased with the low blow and spoke up, “Not getting any is far preferable to fucking a wanker like Ramsey Bolton.”

The girl just laughed, “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, what with your... preferences,” she threw back, giving Asha a judgemental look from head to toe.

Asha didn’t hardly blink, but any sympathy Daenerys had felt for this girl vanished with that comment.

Nymeria scoffed from where she was organizing her wardrobe. “Please, Asha’s made more girls come than Ramsey’s ever even touched,” the dark haired girl threw over her shoulder.

Myranda just shrugged, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Nymeria just rolled her eyes, but Dany felt her dislike growing. This wasn’t friendly banter, this was friendly fire.

The northern girl turned to focus in on the newcomer, giving her a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” she said with a dramatic curiosity, before gesturing to herself, “I’m Myranda,”

Dany nodded, “Daenerys,”

“Oh, I know who you are. The  _ Mad King’s Daughter _ ,” She laughed condescendingly, “I’m a fan of your work.”

Dany’s face slowly dropped. She knew where this was going, and had a feeling she wasn’t talking about her campaign for the rights of house elves.

“I mean to kill your only living relative just to secure your inheritance? Now that’s a power move.” She said with a wicked glint in her eye.

Daenerys held her gaze and betrayed no emotion, though her distaste for this girl was beginning to simmer into rage below the surface.

“Though I guess not your  _ only _ living relative,” she said with a shrug “but it's pretty clear that Aemon isn’t long for this world, you got awfully lucky to squeeze in a favor before he kicks it.”

Myranda’s small, satisfied smile told Dany all she needed to know about her.

She was truly the snake of this pit.

Dany smiled back tightly, “I’m truly blessed,”

“I'll say so,” Myranda huffed, reaching out to twirl a strand of Dany’s hair around her finger. It was all Dany could do not to slap the hand away from her face.

The girl leaned closer and said quietly, “You certainly caught a lot of eye’s at the banquet. The boy’s couldn’t help themselves.”

The girl's tight, forced smile revealed an aggression underneath, which Dany quickly recognized as jealousy. She was used to insecure women fearing her veela blood.

“Though, you’ll have to settle a bet for me,” the girl nearly whispered, holding back an amused expression, “do the curtains match the drapes?”

Asha scoffed in disgust, “Fuck off Myranda”

“I’m just curious!” The girl said, throwing her hands up innocently and taking a half step back from Dany, before quickly leaning in again. “Though I did wager three galleons, help a poor girl out?”

That made up Dany’s mind.

She couldn’t charm this snake. 

She’d have to rip its fangs out instead.

“Sorry,” She deadpanned, “I've already donated to charity this year.”

She heard Tyene choke on her wine and Nymeria hid a snort behind her hand.

The grin on Myranda’s face warped into a sneer, and Dany knew she’d hit her target.

Myranda blinked a few times before forcing a smile back onto her face and taking a step forward to loom over Daenerys’s petite form. 

“You don’t want to make an enemy of me dragon bitch,” she warned in a sickly sweet tone.

“No,” Dany returned easily, not dropping her gaze, “that would be your mistake.”

The girl stared her down menacingly for a few moments, but Dany simply held the venomous stare, unimpressed. 

“We’ll see,” Myranda said ominously, before turning on her heel, grabbing a bag of toiletries off the chest at the end of her bed and striding back out of the room.

Dany let out a breath with a slight roll of her eyes and looked over at the girls who had been watching the exchange. To her surprise she found three impressed grins staring back at her, even if Obara was fighting hers.

Nymeria suddenly chuckled and turned to Asha.

“I like her,” she announced, making Tyene laugh as well.

Even Obara cracked a small smile as she looked at her and said, “We may have use for you yet.”

Dany couldn’t help but smile back. It was a small victory, but a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! Not as long as I was hoping it would be, but I wanted to get you guys an update after such a long wait. I’ll hopefully have another one by the end of the week!  
> Thanks for all your patience ❤️


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